


Three Times Prompto was Proven Wrong

by Ignite (oscillos)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: A Lot of Eventual Smut In Fact, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Childhood Friends, Confessions, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Self-Esteem Issues, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:11:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9281690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oscillos/pseuds/Ignite
Summary: Three times Prompto was proven wrong about himself. The whole trio/Prompto. (Separately)Part 1. Gladiolus (Done!)Part 2. Ignis (Chapter 1 up!)Part 3. Noctis (Cancelled)Edit: *SO sorry, but for the forseeable future this will only have Prompto’s finished. Thank you for your understanding.





	1. Gladiolus, part 1.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really write fic anymore but I'm too thirsty for this dumb boy band roadtrip game, so here you go. 
> 
> This will be divided into separate, self-contained parts for each character/Prompto. It's not all of them at once, sorry!
> 
> No spoilers beyond the first few chapters of the game so far, and I doubt there will be. Tags will be updated as I go along, but there WILL be smut in every character's part, so be forewarned.

I. Gladiolus

 

It was a sweltering day in Leide, but you would hardly know it at the Galdin Quay. The sun shone bright above the resort's fine sands, and the cool ocean breeze that rolled off of its shimmering waters brought a salty, luxurious sensation to any who stood on its beach, or really, anywhere in the spa's vicinity.

Yet, Prompto was currently drenched in sweat. It wasn't cool at all. He was distinctly _not cool_. If anything, the dampness of the air only fills his lungs as if it were water, causing him to pant in desperation as he scrambled to the side, only to be thrown off his feet by a sudden, sly kick to his chest.

Before he was even entirely cognizant of the hit, his back was colliding with the mossy, rough outcrop beside their camp, knocking the breath out of him in a rush, while also barring any form of retreat except for ahead. Prompto gasped to catch his breath, shoes sliding thickly through the sand as he tried to scramble up, hands scraping up against the moss behind him for any semblance of support. Shaking with adrenaline, Prompto raised his chin to the opponent approaching his crumpled defense, backlit by the setting sun. A shiver ran down his spine.

Gladio stood before him.

Why— no, _how_ the hell had he gotten himself into this?

 

* * *

 

"I'm afraid I must object, Noct. It simply will not do for you to go it alone, given the danger." Ignis sighed, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his glasses, posture tense.

The ferry was closed, the kingdom was in chaos, _the king was dead_ , and they were stuck without passage. Prompto can't blame Noctis for the bitter rebelliousness he's showing right now, eyes watching his shoes swing from where he's perched idly on the railing leading up to the Galdin Quay spa proper. Watching Noctis cry while he was helpless to do anything but watch had been torture.

Noctis made a frustrated sound in his throat. "Yeah, well, it's not going to do us much good if the ferry never sets off, either."

"Come on, Specs. We can't stay here forever. It'll be just as dangerous." Gladio offered, leaning against the railing where Prompto sat, a frown perched on his lips, as well. Ignis soon returned it, dropping his arms and offering a slight huff of his own. Prompto's teeth found his lip nervously.

"I understand that you wish to search for alternate means beyond the coast, but just as hefty is the chance we leave the area and it _does_ return, potentially leaving us empty-handed and effectively up a creek— rather, _ocean_ — without a paddle."

"Why don't you and Noct check it out, while Gladdy and I stay here?" Prompto said suddenly, without thinking. All eyes turned to him. Panic causes him to stammer, "Um, uh, I mean, maybe that would work?" 

Chuckling nervously, he scratched the back of his head, eyes turning away from the group. Gladio elbows him in the ribs— supportively— almost knocking him off the railing in the process.

"Prompto's right for once, Iggy," He kept talking over Prompto's fast complaint, crossing burled arms. "It's just a day or two. You babysit the prince, scout out any local ports, while I stick stick here and put a little pressure on our new friend, Dino."

Ignis looked first to the two who had spoken, then back to Noctis, who looked as sullenly defeated as ever, and sighed in defeat.

"I suppose if it's already been _decided_ , I can only manage. We must be swift, Highness," Ignis glanced at his watch, though Prompto couldn't imagine why, except that it might ground him amid the unbelievably horrible events of the past day. He idly played with the the bandana around his arm, wondering if anything could help him with the same— or any of them. "They'll be searching for you, now that-" 

Noctis interrupted immediately, grimacing. "Yeah, I know. C'mon, let's go." Prompto's heart drops for maybe the fifth time today.

Ignis and Noctis gathered some supplies to take in the Regalia— just in case they had to stop for fear of dusk, Ignis said— while Gladio tried one more round of chatting up the locals on their behalf, then the former two set to leave. Prompto tried to be helpful, putting a few not-entirely-necessary items into the glove compartment, where Noctis might find them (a few extra cans of Ebony for Ignis, some photos of the four for Noctis) and tried not to feel like he was saying goodbye forever. 

They'd just be away for a day, if even that. Yet, with the events of the past several days unfolding, Prompto couldn't help but feel suffocated by the fragility of their situation. He felt utterly useless, and as strongly as he trusted Ignis to be anything but, found himself yearning to be by Noctis' side, especially now. On the other hand, the idea of leaving _Gladio_ on his own, in the event Magitek soldiers searched the resort...

"Hey, you gonna space out all day, or what?"

Gladio's voice suddenly startled Prompto out of his thoughts. His eyes whipped around, startled to find the Regalia _wasn't_  sitting where it had been just a moment ago (to him, at least), and that Gladio now took its place, leaning close to him with a brow raised. 

"W-Where'd Noct and Iggy go?!" His head jerked this way and that, then when Gladio pointed toward the top of the hill leaving Galdin Quay, jolted to that point like a bolt of lightning had struck the spot. Dimly, he saw the Regalia rounding its bend.

"They said g'bye but you didn't even noti-" Gladio starts, but Prompto had already cupped his hands, yelling at the top of his lungs in the car's direction.

"BYE, IGGY! BYE, NOCT!!"

Flustered and panting in order to catch his breath, a relieved smile yanked across his lips as two hands waved from the departing car. Prompto spared a hurried look at Gladio, who had his face in his hands. "What? I wasn't _not_  going to say goodbye—"

Sighing, Gladio simply grabbed Prompto by the collar— who yelped— and dragged him off toward their rooms. 

He... he may have screwed up, just a bit, with the yelling. Just a little.


	2. Gladiolus, part 2.

"Look, man, I wasn't thinking! How was I supposed to know everyone would hear me?" Prompto groaned, dragging his feet as they carry the remainder of their camping equipment far down the beach, to a fairly hidden cove. Following his little _outburst_ , Gladio had announced that they were camping for the night, just in case anyone recognized the blatantly shouted nicknames. What he really thought, though, was that Gladio just wanted to shoehorn in another camping trip. Maybe the 10,000 gil a pop room fee had something to do with it. Prompto isn't thinking about it, much. That would require less groaning, something he simply wasn't willing to sacrifice right now.

"You're the only one complaining, Prom. You gotta reap what you sow." Gladio offers, already opening two folding chairs at their campsite with a subtly triumphant sneer.

"But it's haaarrd," Prompto collapsed onto one immediately, kicking off his shoes and throwing his head back dramatically. "Literally! Have you ever noticed how many rocks end up under our tent? Have you?"

"Not really. "

"Ugh, I knew you'd say that."

"You sure it's not just that you're so scrawny a pebble feels like a boulder?"

He snorts, throwing his upper body forward to pout at Gladio, who was now seated across from him.

"Hey, no fair! Just because you're ripped doesn't mean I'm..." Prompto doesn't know where he was going with that anymore, and it's likely evident on his face. He _is_ pretty scrawny now. "...Not?"

At this, Gladio laughed. Sure, Prompto was being laughed at, but he still couldn't hold back the smile the inched across his face at the other's sincere reaction. The tight feeling in his chest eased just a little for the first time that day, so he laughed, too.

... But only as long as it took him to spy something close to his chair— in this case, a drawstring bag containing their blankets— and throw it directly at Gladio's face. There are more than a few tossed items back and forth before they settle in for an early dinner, the sky subtly beginning to darken. It's Cup Noodle, of course, since Ignis wasn't there to spoil them, and god knows Gladio didn't get to indulge in his sodium-filled favorite very often.

They ate quietly, Prompto lost in his own thoughts, and Gladio likely involved in the same. After the noodles were finished and the soup idly consumed, Prompto set his dish down, drawing his knees to his chest and trying to reconcile the events since their departure.

"You think Iggy and Noct are okay?" His eyes were on the fire, not Gladios. Prompto thought it would be fine if the other didn't hear him, as much as he was simply speaking his worries aloud.

"It's only been a couple hours. I'm sure Iggy will give us a call once they're getting somewhere."

"Yeah, I guess you're right..."

They fell into silence again, though this time, it felt pointedly sober. He struggled to find the words to express what he was feeling, whether it was something he should even say— whether it was something he should put on Gladio.

"Do... Do you think we could have done anything?"

Prompto's voice was a hushed whisper, and whereas before he had been distantly staring toward the campfire, now he was purposely looking anywhere but at Gladio. It was too light out still, his pained expression too bare, visible to Gladio and the world.

_why had he even brought it up—_

"No." Gladio said so strongly, Prompto forgot not to look. When he did, he was startled to find Gladio staring right at him, brows furrowed. The other paused. "There wasn't a damn thing any of us— or anyone else— could have done."

He looked away again, and worried his lip. Prompto could hear Gladio rising from his chair with a charged sound under his breath, and a burst of anxiety bloomed in his chest. Someone else would know what to do. Someone else would know how to protect Noctis. The words he heard next, however, made Prompto see red.

"—So whatever bullshit you're thinking of, stop it."

" _Excuse_ me?"

"You heard me."

Prompto dropped his knees and scrambled out of his chair, fists balling. His chest felt tight. He snapped. "So many people might have died, and you're telling me _not_ to think about it?! Even the _King_ , he—"

"Hey—" Gladio barked, grabbing his shirt tightly to yank him forward. The other stood tall over him, but Prompto returned a glare in turn, right in the eye. "That's not what I mean at all, and you know it."

Prompto's hands come up to where Gladio holds him, closing over his fists to try to push him away. Gladio's warmth felt like a brand against his hands, against where the other holds his shirt tightly. It was too real, he had to get away, the touch simultaneously too challenging as well as comforting with its presence. Prompto pushes at him with a growl, all the stress from the takeover releasing at once.

"It sure sounds like it! I don't know how you can be so calm, now that we have to— now that _Noct_ —"

_Now that we have to protect Noct from Imperial forces. Now that Noct is to be king. Now that it falls on us— on me, to—_

Gladio let go, and the sudden lack of resistance paired with Prompto's distracting thoughts sent him tripping backwards, falling on his ass on the hard stone formation beneath them.

"Prom," About to jump to his feet, Prompto was cut off, "You know as well as I do that we couldn't have stopped it."

Gladio's tone softened, though his eyes were still intense, brows furrowed. There was no getting out of this.

"Why don't you tell me what you were really thinking of?"


	3. Gladiolus, part 3.

Prompto stiffened. The stone felt ice cold beneath him, even with their campfire warm just feet away. His stomach roiled with anxiety, no escape in sight. No coward's way out. There's a long moment of silence between them.

"...I just wish I could be stronger." It comes out in a rush, with a little bit of laughter accompanying it— not happy laughter, that much is certain— and Prompto's hands returned to fists. He felt weak, on the ground in front of Gladio, but he knew it wouldn't feel any different if he had been standing, either. The other's silence hung heavy, prompting him to continue.

"I wish I could stop wondering if someone else...could be doing a better job, y'know? At protecting Noct, at being everything I'm just _not_."

"What makes you think you're weak?"

Prompto was startled by Gladio's words, gaze snapping back up to him. He'd crossed his arms, starting down at him with... not disapproval, but something else. Something warmer. Shrugging, another fit of nervous chuckling passed his lips, and he smiled self-deprecatingly, looking from Gladio's muscle-clad body, his tight-fitting tank that accentuated the breadth of his arms, and back to his own, lean one.

"I mean, look at me."

"I look at you all the time, Prom." Prompto's breath caught in his throat guiltily, though Gladio thankfully didn't stop there, "What's your point?"

"What's the point of having me here, when Noct could have another Ignis to look out for him? Or someone else like _you_ to protect him?"

Now it's out. Gladio knows. Prompto can't tear his eyes from the ground until the other speaks.

"Who chose you, Prompto?"

"The King, his council, I guess..." He started, "But,"

This time, Gladio's voice firmed, full of intensity. "Would you give your life for Noct?"

Prompto's stomach twists at the thought of losing Noctis, and the idea seemed so sincerely possible, striking him as if it were physical pain. They weren't only his protectors, they were his friends. Noctis was his friend. He'd known Noctis for years, he cared about him so much, above himself, and—

"...Yes..." It's quiet, but firm.

"And who's beside you?"

Prompto finally looked up, heart beating fast. Gladio's hand was extended down toward him. Blinking rapidly, every ounce of tense anger— not even at Gladio, but rather himself— drained, and he could feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. Wiping his nose before it had even began to run, on instinct, he reached up with his other hand, about to surprised by Gladio's strength at pulling him up, but even more surprised by where he ended up.

 _An embrace._ Gladio had wrapped him in a hug, warmth surrounding him. The tears Prompto had been trying to suppress now wrenched themselves out of him with a badly-stifled sob, shoulders shaking, so surprised that his arms just hung at his sides. He was such an idiot. He cried for what seemed like an embarrassing eternity, so overwhelmed by the takeover of Insomnia and trying to hold it together that it seemed unstoppable. Gladio only leaned in, rubbing a large, open palm over Prompto's upper back, saying nothing.

Truth be told, Prompto wanted to stay like that, even after he— at long last— stopped crying. During his fit, his face had dropped to the other's collar, face close to the warmth of his skin where it met the open-neck of his tank. He wanted to raise his hands, desperately wanted to be even closer, to prove somehow how much he appreciated... everything, but Prompto gave into none of it, instead laughing softly. There's a rumble of similar from Gladio's chest, and he wished he could press his face to it.

"Jeez. I didn't think I was going to make you cry." Gladio said, amusement in the back of his voice.

"Shut up." Came his response, a low whine accompanied by an unintentional sniffle.

"I mean, I know I've got more muscle than you, but—"

" _Gladdyyyyy_..." Prompto whined again, now pulling away and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, another light, genuine laugh following him when he took a step away. He didn't get far, hoping to blow his nose and wipe his eyes away from Gladio, before he felt a hard pinch at the top of his bicep, pulling an immediate yelp from Prompto's lips.

" _What the hell_ , Gladdy, that hurt!" Prompto spun around in disbelief, greeted by a lazily-grinning Gladio, brows raised.

"Why don't you train a little with me?" As challenging as the look in Gladio's eyes was, it was also sincere. It warmed him up inside, reminding him of how it had felt to be held by the other. Judgement free, almost. Prompto shivered, realizing he was staring— not the first time it had happened, but definitely not an appropriate time... if ever there were one. "I'll show you that you aren't as weak as you think."

Dumbfounded, he watched Gladio pick up their dishes, heading to get some water and clean them. Just before the other was out of earshot, however, he heard Gladio's voice:

"—Maaaybe."

" _Hey_!"


	4. Gladiolus, part 4.

...And so, here he was. Prompto Argentum, age 20, about to die by the hands of one Gladiolus Amicitia. At least he wasn't a virgin. In his flustered state, Prompto had of course agreed to meet the challenge, though he immediately, _immediately_ regretted it the second they had both stepped onto the sand beside their campsite, the "arena" of Gladio's choice.

Gladio felt like a giant before him. Having removed his shirt— of course— Prompto was both impressed as well as terrified by seeing, without the distraction of a daemon or Imperial encounter, the ripple of muscle across his arms and chest, down to his abs, and the defined jut of his hips... oops, he was staring again. Swallowing, Prompto faced the other head-on, falling into what seemed like a proper fighting posture, fingertips itching without a pistol to pull.

It went about as well as you'd expect. Prompto had only stayed standing by the skin of his teeth, and though he was certain that Gladio hadn't been going easy on him— something he couldn't help but respect, given their earlier exchange— it meant he wasn't exactly winning, either. Gladio was fast, and tough, and every one of Prompto's strikes had missed or seemingly been absorbed by thick muscle, leaving him scrambling away as a counterattack came, and hard. It wasn't that he wasn't trying, just that... Gladio was _amazing_.

Trying to climb to his feet against the mossy outcrop he'd collided with, Prompto swallowed, eyes scanning the impressive figure before him with a mix of appreciation and nervous anticipation.

"Is that the only way you're gonna fight?"

"I'm trying..."

Gladio scoffs, clearly disappointed, though not unkindly. "How do you fight Magitek armor?"

"Are you going tell me you're a Magitek soldier, now? Is that your secret, Gladdy? Cuz that would make a lot of sens—"

"How do you disarm something bigger than you?" Gladio interrupts, drawing closer.

It dawns on Prompto at once just what Gladio means. A grin slowly creeps across his lips, eyes narrowing.

Oh, he was going to have to be _tricky_.

"You... surprise them, right?" The words are barely out of Prompto's mouth before he was launching outward with the aid of the wall behind him, aiming his instep for Gladio's right knee. He watched it connect and, a little guiltily, the cringing expression that quickly passed Gladio's expression as well. He was too busy darting past the other to watch it for long, however, booking it for the open as fast as he could.

It may have taken Gladio only a moment to recover, but this time, Prompto was ready. When they sparred now, it was full of a frantic, even playful energy that hadn't existed beforehand, and he knew it was because of him. That, and the adrenaline. Gladio was still certainly stronger than him— a head-on attack left Prompto on the losing end every time— but he was getting better and better at finding the drop on the larger man as they went on, whether it be from a well-aimed jab at his throat, a heel to the back of his knee, or just running away...

Prompto felt like maybe, he wasn't as useless as he'd been thinking. Just maybe.

It only helped his spirits to see Gladio having just as much fun as he was now having. There'd been a grin nearly cemented to the other's face since he'd finally "gotten it", and even when Gladio had soon been slicked in the same sweat Prompto was, hair wild where it framed his face, the focused enthusiasm was clearly there. He swallowed again, watching the wind of Gladio's muscles down his torso, shining with sweat in the setting sun, the wild expression on his face...

... And tripped soundly over a rock.

"Distracted?" Gladio called, approaching fast. Fast enough that Prompto had just enough time to throw out one of his legs, a surge of adrenaline helping him trip Gladio— leaving them both sprawled on the sand. Prompto scrambled over as fast as he could, launching onto him into an attempt to hold him down.

"Just... trying to surprise you!"

Clearly winded, but as if it were nothing, Gladio pushes up against Prompto, immediately moving to pin him against the sand with a growl— but again, Prompto reached for a weakness, striking the inside of the arm Gladio had been supporting himself with, which sent the taller man back onto the sand with a thud. Prompto ended up on top of the other again, this time straddling him tightly, hands at his wrists. A sly, satisfied grin appeared on his lips, gaze narrowed down triumphantly at Gladio even as Prompto all but gasped for air, so winded and riled up from the brawl.

"Did I..." He gasped, eyes bright, "Did I win?"

Gladio breathed just as hard, expression indecipherable.

"I'm thinking about it."

Prompto scoffed now, and pressed down on Gladio's wrists, wanting his satisfaction, maybe a little selfish praise. _Something_ , come on. He whined, "Think faster."

A toothy grin greeted him. "I dunno, I've got a pretty great view from down here. Might as well enjoy it."

The response came as such a surprise, he barely had time to feel his stomach drop, eyes widening. At once, he was aware of how warm Gladio felt beneath them— their intimate closeness, the breadth of muscle where Prompto straddled him. He could almost trace the exact edges of the scar crossing the other's face, they were so close. Prompto remembered himself too late, and blinked rapidly, tried to wipe the started expression from his face, the rising blush at his cheekbones.

"V...very funny."

Laughing nervously as an alibi, Prompto started to pull his hands away. Before he could, though, Gladio leaned up suddenly, and something pressed softly against Prompto's lips.

It was... Gladio's mouth, warm and very real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's on, ya'll
> 
> (Sorry these chapters are kind of short, I'm cutting down a larger file of writing because I realized I didn't want to post it all at once. The other parts will be portioned better!)


	5. Gladiolus, part 5.

_oh my god_

_Gladio was kissing him?_

Or rather, Gladio _had_ kissed him. It was over as soon as it had began, one of Prompto's hands shooting up to cover his mouth, his wide eyes scanning Gladio's face, now unbelievably close. There was no hiding Prompto's blatant shock, the stutter in his breath, just as he couldn't soon enough escape from the unreadable look on the other's face, save Gladio's still-parted lips.

"What was—"

Gladio is fast to respond, though quiet, "Just...trying to surprise you?"

Prompto's heart dropped, and he released the breath he hadn't been aware of holding. Instantly, he scrambled backward off of Gladio, turning away to try to play off the displeasure crossing his normally-cheerful expression. Of course.

"Not funny, Gladio." Prompto felt stupid for thoughts he hadn't even been having in that moment, experiencing in retrospect now.

"Prom, hey—" Gladio was probably getting up to stop him and apologize, but truthfully, he didn't want to hear it. Maybe later.

"Look, I get it. It was a joke. No worries!" He waved over his shoulder without looking, forcing some enthusiasm to drive it home.

Gladio called after him, tone tense, even, "What if it wasn't a joke?"

Prompto's world felt like it was spinning. A haze of red fell over his mind, a mixture of embarrassment and surging anxiety.

"What's the point in asking if it was?" He hissed, then, guiltily added, "Sorry, I'm feeling kind of tired, I should pass out."

He just needed a night's rest, that's all. Something to distance himself from the thoughts racing through his mind, how ridiculously dramatic he was being. When Noctis and Ignis returned, they would all be too distracted to—

"Prompto, _stop_."

It came angrily, this time, and a hand closed on his forearm, turning him around roughly. Prompto returned the sound of frustration in kind— or would have, had Gladio's mouth not roughly pressed to his again, strong arms dragging him close. His hands came at once to Gladio's chest, pushing him away with an indignant gasp.

"I'm sorry, Prom—"

"I said," Prompto sniffed, staring in disbelief, "It wasn't _funny_."

At that, Gladio pulled him flush with his own body in a tight hug, the contact sending a jolt through Prompto's body, the physical touch conveying some sort of sincerity, even through his own defenses, wrought with disbelief. When Gladio drew back, it was to brush lips against Prompto's own again, features dark with the setting sun searching his expression. Dumbfounded, Prompto couldn't move, frozen. When Gladio spoke, it was in a rough whisper, though he felt so aware of the taller man's voice, it might as well have been a shout.

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

After a long pause, Prompto weakly shook his head.

_there's no way this can be true. i'm wrong._

_why would he even be interested in someone like me?_

_i'm not allowed to have this._

Yet, Gladio drew near once more, lips hovering over Prompto's own, giving him the chance to refuse. When Prompto doesn't move, he finds himself kissed again lightly, the other's mouth soft against his own, questioning. With every bit of hesitation he could manage, Prompto tentatively brushed his lips back against Gladio's own, expecting him to pull away, expecting the dream to shatter, expecting disdain to cross the other man's expression. Instead, he was surprised by the larger man's arms tightening around him a fraction, the kiss soon reciprocated just as gently.

He was kissing Gladio. Gladio was _really_ kissing him.

A small whimper passed Prompto's lips as he delicately leaned into it, testing the waters, still expecting the jig to be up at any moment. It would be a joke... or he'd wake up, one of the two. Maybe both. His mind did like to do that. Instead, Gladio's lips only pressed harder to his own, gaining brevity now that Prompto was shyly kissing him in return. He felt a hand press gently to his cheek, then the nape of his neck, holding him gently as they pressed small, slow pecks onto each other's mouths, and it made Prompto aware that at some point, he had closed his eyes. He opened them and looked at Gladio's face from close up, vision hazy from the darkness and his own stunned state— the other man was watching him through narrowed eyes, face flushed. Prompto had never seen anything like it on Gladio, provoking a tight feeling in his chest, and warmth through his body. It couldn't be real.

"If..." Prompto starts, voice cracking, eyes locked on Gladio's with equal parts worry and tenderness, "...If this is a joke, I'm—"

Bypassing words, Gladio interrupted him with another kiss, warm and reassuring, pulling another quiet gasp from Prompto's lips and punctuating the words that tumble out in between kisses.

"—going to kill you in your sleep tonight," Another kiss, his words breathy, "Gladio."

The words are already forgotten when Gladio's lips meet his more strongly, and he might have been smiling in response to the tentative joke, but Prompto's eyes had already closed again, shy, tentative hands coming up to rest on the expanse of Gladio's chest. Encouraged, Prompto tests a more open kiss, lips sweeping openly over the taller man's closed mouth of his own accord, shocked at the low rumble of sound deep in the other's throat in response.

_Whoa_. Pleasant shivers itched down Prompto's spine. He wasn't sure of anything right now, except that he wanted to hear that again.

It seemed like Prompto didn't need to reach far for it, because Gladio now returned the kiss in kind, lips moving openly against his, making Prompto dizzy with the overload of sensations embracing him. It started with the literal pull of Gladio's arms tight around him, the warmth of his mouth now sweeping wetly against Prompto's own, soft and sweet, but with an underlying intensity he couldn't understand. Heat was spreading across his body, especially where their lips touched, where their chests—Gladio's bare, Prompto's damp where his shirt clung closely to his skin— now met.

Prompto's hands crept shyly up the other's chest, and behind his nape to clutch open-palmed against Gladio's back, wanting more than anything to be closer as the fullness of the situation dawns on him— the taller man's hand swept down from his arm with an encouraging sound, and instead circled his waist to his lower back, holding their bodies against each other. The strength of Gladio's hands carefully but passionately holding him, and the present, insistent push-pull of open-mouthed kisses between them—which Prompto now returned enthusiastically, if with some form of tentative restraint— evoked a sweet whine to tear from his lips before he could stop it, a shudder wracking him.

Embarrassed, Prompto thought to apologize, but was fast met by a sharp intake of breath from Gladio, another hard kiss. Rather than continue, he began to place warm, open-mouthed kisses down Prompto's cheek and neck, leaving him no recourse but to cling to Gladio's broad shoulders. He leaned up on his tiptoes to give the taller man more room, almost fully supported by Gladio's strength at this point, smothered by his affection, the heated press of their bodies together.

"Gods, you're so..." Gladio groans against kiss-damp flesh, his fingertips skirting beneath the tight edge of Prompto's shirt. Both dash the presence of breath from his lungs, forcing him to draw in short gasps. It had become so dark that they were only shallowly lit by the campfire across the sand, the low visibility amplifying the effect of his every touch.

" _Gladdy_...-" Without looking from where his face was now pressed to his own, freckled shoulder, Prompto urged him breathlessly, wriggling under the sensation of skin to skin.

Then, a sudden sound jolted them both out of their stupor.

_'High Five for Justice!'_ was blaring from somewhere near their feet... _Gladio's phone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :"D sorry-not-sorry
> 
> Next updates will be a little slower, but I'm aiming to get this wrapped up entirely by Tuesday, when the new semester starts.


	6. Gladiolus, part 6.

They both scrambled for where the phone lay in the sand, though Prompto got there first when his legs promptly gave out beneath him, no longer supported by Gladio's strength. He hurriedly swiped the call through, speaking before whomever was on the line.

"Iggy!? Noct!?"

Ignis' voice sounded after a beat, somewhat quizzical, but calming Prompto's worry immediately.

"Prompto? Is this not Gladio's phone?"

_oops...at least that wasn't something he'd ask if there was any huge problems._

"Are you guys okay?!" Prompto supplied instead, thoughts racing to Noctis.

"...Yes, we're quite alright, no need to worry, Prompto." Ignis' tone softened, recognizing Prompto's worry. He can hear the slightest smile in the way Ignis spoke. "Just stuck at the next town over for a night's time. Noct's headaches are being a bother and the roads are too perilous at night, so I thought we'd best stay."

Prompto can hear Noctis groan in the background. The guy never did want to seem to stop for the night when they were driving, and there's no way Ignis would trust him with the car. It all brought a relieved smile to his mouth. Thank the gods they were okay. Glancing up to where Gladio stood in front of him, brow quirked with concern, Prompto hurriedly raised a shaky hand curled into a thumbs-up.

"...Prompto?" Ignis' voice draws his attention back to the phone hurriedly.

"Yeah, Iggy?"

"You..." Ignis pauses, as if choosing his words carefully. "...Sound rather winded. Are you alright?"

He thinks his eyes might have bulged out of his head at that moment. Prompto slaps a hand over his mouth to stop the sputter that would have been heard otherwise, chuckling skittishly. Prompto had been all but panting breathlessly into the phone for the entire call.

"Yeah, uhhh... Gladio and I were, um...training?" Prompto tries very hard to not see the telltale purse of Gladio's lips into a smirk. Very, very hard. A hermit crab scuttling across the sand is suddenly very interesting. "You can imagine how it was going."

_actually, please don't, iggy._

Ignis gave a small hum of amusement. Prompto prayed that for once, Ignis wasn't deadly perceptive. "That's good to hear. May I speak to Gladio now, Prompto? I've a few questions about our predicament at the pier."

"Yeah, sure, he's right here. But, um— say hi to Noct for me, okay? Make sure he doesn't get farther in King's Knight without me, Iggy! Goodnight!"

He shoved his arm in Gladio's direction with a pout, declining to turn. Prompto knew that sly look would still be on the other's face without even seeing it, and he wasn't yet ready to acknowledge... everything, even skirting the thought at once made his heart beat out of his chest.

The phone was taken gently from his hands, and when Prompto could hear Gladio engaging Ignis in some sort of conversation about the pier, he thought himself finally safe... until a large hand ruffled his hair. Turning, Gladio give him a reassuring— if sly— look from where he towered over the area Prompto was still-knelt, making him blush. Idly, he hoped it was dark enough that Gladio couldn't see.

Whether he did or not, Gladio headed toward their campsite, still speaking to Ignis in a leisurely, if hushed tone.

Finally alone, Prompto at once doubled over, clutching his chest with wide eyes. It wasn't anxiety (or only anxiety, anyway) that stirred within him now, however, but a giddy sort of disbelief, warm and all-encompassing. His head swam, and for every bit of self-deprecating lines his mind tried to throw at him, Prompto couldn't dismiss what had just happened as nothing.

Gladio had kissed him. Not once, twice, or even three times— a lot. Actually, now that he had the presence of mind to think about it, they'd literally made out. Prompto's face flushed harder, and his hands went from his chest to his face, covering it as a smile stretched across his features, unbidden. He felt like he had to laugh, to relieve some of the pressure mounting in his chest at the full realization.

With that acknowledgement came recognition of... everything else. The way Gladio had kissed him— the way Prompto had kissed him _back_. Gladio's hand pressing to his face, his neck, dipping under his shirt. He shivered, recalling the affected sound Gladio had made when Prompto worked up the courage to kiss him in return, and somewhat embarrassingly, the sounds he'd made as Gladio had kissed his throat. It felt unreal, and...

Damn. He needed a cold shower, ASAP, and it wasn't just because he was all sweaty from play-fighting. Stealing a glance toward camp, Prompto made sure that the other was still on the phone with Ignis before skulking off toward one of the resort's outdoor showers, steali— _borrowing_ a towel off one of the Galdin Quay's immaculate beach chairs on the way.

(But not before texting Gladio a quick " _BRB_!!", so that the poor guy didn't bust in on him. The last thing he needed was the topic of his thoughts to interrupt his attempts to... y'know, not think of Gladio while he was totally naked.)

Prompto knew he'd feel better when it didn't seem like the heat from Gladio's body was clinging to him, as if it were his sweat-damp shirt. On some level, though, it was painfully clear to him that it wouldn't be as easily dispelled as a simple change of clothing, despite how hard Prompto had tried to put attraction any of his companions— especially Gladio— out of his mind prior to their trip. Prompto rested his forehead on the inside of the shower cubby with the water at full blast, and tried with a smile not to think of how effortlessly Gladio had gotten under his skin.

After a time, Prompto relented from the safety of the shower, though mostly because he was worried someone from the Galdin Quay would jump him for stealing their water in the middle of the night. He'd already screwed up once by yelling Noctis' name in broad daylight, he didn't want to be seen further on the news as a wanted, naked man fleeing resort attendees for his life. Talk about the opposite of low-profile. Scrubbing the "borrowed" towel through his damp hair and shivering a little, having forgone putting his incredibly gross, sweaty shirt back on, Prompto made his way back to their camp, carrying his shoes as to allow night-cooled sand to scrunch under his bare feet. Just as he'd thought, a shower had set his head right. Well, kind of. He still hadn't been able to stop thinking about Gladio, but as minutes passed where Prompto was separated from the thick of things, he'd come to terms with several important realizations: mainly, that regardless of whatever that had been, Gladio wasn't the type of man to play such a cruel joke on someone.

The next realization, which wasn't much of a revelation so much as a guilty and rapidly reoccurring thought, was that he needed to kiss Gladio again, and as soon as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part will be longer, for, ahem, _reasons_. Sorry if there's a bit of a wait.


	7. Gladiolus, part 7.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> u know what's happening i don't gotta say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DROPS THIS AND RUNS

Prompto found Gladio reclined in front of the campfire, now roused to a more appropriate level to combat the darkness of night. It's a little weird he wasn't sitting in one of the camping chairs they had set out, but given the wetness of the other man's hair, perhaps he wanted to be closer to the fire. That didn't really explain why Gladio was still shirtless, but honestly, he, Noctis, and Ignis had stopped trying to explain that a long time ago.

Taking a steadying breath, Prompto scrambled up the side of the campstone, hoping his footfalls were enough to make his entrance comfortably known. It felt awkward to duck into their tent for a shirt without saying anything, or sit in one of the chairs while Gladio sat by the fire, so Prompto instead flopped next to him, playfully punching the other in the shoulder.

"Not the best weather to air-dry in, don't ya think, big guy?"

"'Too lazy to get a shirt." Gladio turned an eye toward Prompto as he sat, as casual as ever, despite the... y'know, _that stuff_. "Iggy talked for so long, you'd almost think the guy was stressed, or something."

He laughed lightly, knowing simultaneously that it was probably true, and that Noctis wasn't going to sit through it without falling asleep, even if he was understandably... morose at the present.

"So lemme get this straight," Prompto stretched his legs out, warming himself by the fire. "You, sir, have a chronic case of laziness, and Iggy is a worry-wart. Seems business as usual to me."

Gladio raised a brow, eyes flicking down Prompto's own bare chest.

"Like you can talk?"

He resists the urge to cover himself with his hands, instead pouting indignantly. There was nothing new to see from any old time they'd undressed around each other, but given the situation, Prompto still felt a _little_ vulnerable to Gladio's stare... or at least noticed that the other was still looking.

Prompto overcompensates by smacking Gladio's arm again, feeling comfortable in their familiarity despite what went unsaid. "Dude! I was drenched! I must have lost 5 pounds in that fight in sweat alone!"

"To the victor belongs the spoils." Gladio snorted, leaning back on his hands. It certainly gave Prompto a better view, the light from the campfire casting shadows across the cut muscle of his torso.

"Yeah, what a prize." Prompto shot back, rolling his eyes half-heartedly, though a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

He waited a safe moment or two to see if Gladio had anything else to say, still too nervous to broach the topic himself. Instead, he brought up something sufficiently safe as well as it piqued his interest, wanting for anything but silence.

"So, uh, how are they? Iggy's more honest with you. He knows I can freak out."

_just like he did earlier..._

If Gladio had been bothered by anything, he didn't show it. Prompto felt both calmed as well as frustrated by the lack of conclusiveness, if that were even possible.

"Ehh, they're all good. 'Gonna stop at a couple more places in the morning, then head back in the afternoon."

"I hope they find something..." Prompto trailed off, biting his lip, suddenly struggling with a mix of conflicted feelings. He wanted them to find something to move on, to protect Noctis and really, everyone, and he'd wanted so badly for the two to be back soon, but at the same time...

It felt like 'the next afternoon' was a time limit.

Faced with that dreaded silence again, Prompto stole a glance at Gladio. The other was staring into the fire unreadably, his brows furrowing the longer he looked. After a moment, he blinked, turning fire-lit eyes toward him. It was too late for Prompto to look away without being obvious, so he didn't, and offered a shrug with the smallest smile.

"Hey. C'mere." Gladio patted the area in front of him. Prompto could only offer a puzzled stare, making _Gladio_ to roll his eyes. "Just do it, dummy. ' _To the victor belongs the spoils_ ', remember?"

Okay, so he couldn't help but feel like this is either a trap, or something, uh... questionable. Y'know, of the obscene nature. Did he want him to sit in his lap?

_nononono, don't think about that!_

Maybe Prompto hit his head during their fight? Or perhaps, passed out from hypothermia in that shower cubby? Yeah, this was all just a really ridiculously realistic dream.

"Earth to Prooommm..." Gladio teased, as if sensing his turmoil.

Swallowing nervously, a smile twitching his lips, Prompto scooted in front of the larger man, knees dropping in front of him. He doesn't know what to do with them, so he just folds them in his lap, where they can wring unseen.

"Have we.... uh... gotten to the part of the sleepover where you braid my hair?" Prompto teased right back with a hint of apprehension. Gladio's body radiated heat from behind him, sandwiching his bare skin between a combination of body heat and warmth from the fire. He hoped distantly that his posture didn't seem too stiff—

"Shit, no. Iris burnt me out on that years ago. Or, I burnt _her_ out on it." Gladio shot back with a chuckle that Prompto returned, completely being able to imagine the other being humored by his precious little sister in such a way. Suddenly, however, hands were pressed to his back, and Prompto had to fight down the urge to jump out of his skin at the contact.

"Relax." Gladio murmured, his large palms massaging over Prompto's shoulders, thumbs pressing tight circles into the muscles there. "This is for doing so well earlier."

Gradually, Prompto began to do just that against the touch, the strong press of Gladio's palm and digits against his back working out the tension in it, both from the fight and his worry. It felt almost trance-like, the way the other's hands worked slowly up his back, from his waist (prompting a shudder he hoped Gladio couldn't feel) to the base of his neck. He could smell salt acutely in the air, and realized distantly that Gladio must have bathed in the ocean.

"You're pretty great yourself, Gladio." That definitely didn't come out the way it should have, and was _so_ belated, but he still meant it. He stifled a groan when Gladio's thumbs dug at the muscle beneath his shoulder-blades, where the majority of Prompto's tension sat, swaying a little with the strength of the taller man's palms against him. "...Which perfectly explains why I'm sooo sore."

At that, Gladio simply chuckled, hands still diligently at work. The massage continued in warm, comfortable silence for quite some time, until Prompto began to feel like putty in the larger man's hands, breaking the quiet with a relaxed, low sigh. Over time, he'd slowly slumped backward, and by the time he realized that Gladio had stopped, he'd already been dazedly leaning back against the other's broad chest for several moments.

His body felt heavy, his mind as if each second spanned longer than was physically possible, reminiscent of that time Noct had misfired a Slowga at him. Dazed, Prompto turned his head to look above and back where he was sagged against the other, at Gladio's face. Their eyes met, the larger man's bright with the flicker of the firelight, something dark about them all the same.

Prompto chewed on his lip with uncertainty. He felt safe with Gladio, but he was also worried— he didn't want to mess this up. He didn't want to misunderstand. He didn't want _Gladio_ to misunderstand. Gladio's eyes darted to his mouth, then back to his eyes. When Prompto at last spoke, it came out as a soft, slow whisper, lilting at the end in case he could still pass it off as a "joke" in some alternate universe.

"Earlier..." Prompto's voice cracked, "Why'd you kiss me?"

Gladio's eyes stayed fixed on Prompto's face, lips parting long before he said anything.

"Because I wanted to. Why else?"

What a Gladio thing to say.

Prompto drew in a shallow breath, in that moment only aware of Gladio and the patter of his own heart. He turned more of his body toward the larger man to regard him head-on, body going tense, fingers shaking. Prompto's expression matched how conflicted he now felt, trying to reconcile the negativity in his head with the man very real in front of him, and the urge to _give in_ .

"Is it...that simple for you?" Prompto questions shakily, unable to look away from Gladio. The man looked gorgeous in the firelight, his features—already much sharper than Prompto's own— only carved out further by shadow: the spread of inky black tattoos over his wide shoulders, the prominence of his cheekbones, jaw, lips, and even how his brows draw inward, focused entirely on Prompto.

It seemed an eternity before Gladio responded, and though there was no way it was true, it might as well have been for how tautly Prompto now holds his breath. Gladio seemed to have stolen it, sucking in a deep, steadying breath, himself.

"It is when you've thought about it as much as I have."

"I'm... not so sure it works that way." Prompto rasped nervously, his chest tightening, and he has to take audible, open-mouthed breathes to get by. He wetted his lips nervously, expression seeming almost pained with how much he wanted—  _needed_ to kiss Gladio, but also to be given _permission_. He couldn't do this without it.

Gladio smiled gently, the affection reaching his eyes, even as they grew dark. There's a subtle movement— the tilt of Prompto's chin upward, expression full of hope and disbelief, and of Gladio's downward, leaning in just barely. He looked as if he had to restrain every movement, gently, lightly raising a palm to cradle the corner of Prompto's jaw.

"Why..." He murmured, tone thick and warm, surprisingly sounding just as affected, "Why don't I show you?"

Prompto may not have been surprised when Gladio kissed him this time, but it still took his breath away.

Warm lips pressed cautiously to his own, Gladio eyes open seeming to gauge Prompto's reaction— who very clearly, if shyly, hoped to project it loud and clear: opening his lips at once to press gently to Gladio's own. The kiss parted, and Prompto exhaled shakily, the two of them sharing an intense moment of silence, hyper-close, eyes flicking across the other's expression.

Or at least, Prompto thought it had been clear.

Watching the way Gladio looked at him now, the palm against his cheek budging slightly away, he suddenly felt as if maybe it hadn't been clear _enough_. A bout of panic struck Prompto, and without an ounce of the hesitation he'd shown previously, he surged forward to kiss Gladio of his own accord, mouth landing on other's haphazardly.

Immediately, Prompto felt a stab of self-consciousness, like he'd screwed everything up— but Gladio didn't seem to miss a beat, gasping and returning the kiss in kind, the press of his lips so fiercely passionate that Prompto felt dizzy. Even so, he was done being tentative. If they died protecting Noctis tomorrow... he wanted to have known what it was like, and even if not, knew how deeply he would regret it if he shunned Gladio now. Turning his body the rest of the way toward the much larger man, Prompto pushed eagerly into the kiss, expression screwed up with emotion that he was shocked to find mirrored across Gladio's, only encouraging him further.

What followed was a hot blur for Prompto, as much as he'd have liked to commit every detail to memory. Gladio's arms wrapped around him at the waist, palms splaying, holding him as if the man needed to steady himself, the idea laughable with how taken Prompto instantly becomes. The warmth of the other man's skin against his own drags a murmur from his throat, and he pushes into the touch, leaning up on his knees and bringing his hands to Gladio's expansive chest, running up to his shoulders to hold on— a phone call wouldn't stop either of them, this time, because it was unlikely they'd even hear it. None too gingerly, Prompto parted his lips again, inviting Gladio in— the kiss intensified, a honeyed sound ripping from between their eagerly meeting kisses when he felt Gladio's tongue brush against his lips, licking him open as the hand at his jaw pressed into his hair, cradling his head against the strength of their kisses.

As the seconds passed, Prompto returned each push of Gladio's mouth with growing neediness, needing to be close, close, closer. The air felt suffocatingly thick between them every time they broke for air, made no less by either of them closing the gap, but Prompto couldn't help it— as silly as it might have sounded to him in a right mind, Gladio felt so _real_ , every touch and kiss being better than any daydream he could have entertained. He felt hot all over, pupils blown as widely as Gladio's the few times he opened his eyes, their teeth clacking together as a particularly desperate kiss went somewhat awry. In that moment, Prompto accidentally bites the other's lower lip instead of dragging at it, inciting a low groan from the larger man in response— the sound hits him like a shock of Thundaga, straight to his groin.

Prompto broke the kiss, panting and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He had all but slumped against Gladio at this point, elbows hooked around the back of his neck, fingers pressed into his hair. He smiles sheepishly between gasps. "S-sorry."

"Don't be." Gladio's shoots back with an equally winded smile, eyes narrowed and face flushed. Gladio's tongue darted out to swipe over where Prompto had bit him, tilting his face back toward him gently when he catches Prompto watching it. "I kinda liked it, sorry."

"Oh." Prompto could kind of tell, but hearing the other acknowledge it so openly made him shiver, and stoked the tight feeling in his stomach. He really hoped Gladio wasn't paying much attention to the area between them, because it had rapidly become somewhat visible just _how much_ he'd liked it. "Okay."

They share another kiss, slow but intense, when Prompto decides to take initiative of what was buzzing all over his body—crawling forward mid-kiss with the aid of where his arms are looped behind Gladio's head, he slipped into his lap, still sitting up on his knees so that they weren't completely touching. Gladio broke the kiss suddenly with an exasperated groan, burying his face in Prompto's narrow shoulder.

"Prom..."

Prompto's hands came to Gladio's shoulders, allowing him to crane his neck back and look at the other's face shyly, biting his own lip for a second. "Is this...okay?"

"You just..." Having lost the cover of Prompto's shoulder, Gladio shifted in, trailing warm, wet kisses up the expanse of his throat, drawing quiet gasps from him despite his best attempts to stifle them when the other's breath puffs warmly onto the kiss-damp skin beside his ear, murmuring amusedly, some strain evident in Gladio's tone. His grip tightens on Prompto's waist. "—Have no idea what it's like to have to restrain myself around you."

Oh.

Prompto gets it. He can't really blame Gladio for treating him a little more gently than the others— look at the fit he threw the second he could be honest about things, earlier. He isn't offended, yet... what Prompto wants more than anything is to bare his real feelings, everything he'd been keeping pent up, having convinced himself that not only would it never be true, but also that he was undeserving.

Steeling himself against the other's broad shoulders, Prompto looks away, a shallow gasp passing his lips as he purposely sinks into Gladio's lap, bringing them flush together with a light grind. They both give a low gasp at the touch, Prompto having to struggle to remember what he was going to say when met with the sensation Gladio's shockingly equal excitement against where Prompto was already half-hard. "Then don't."

Gladio seemed blown away, the soon steel-like grip on Prompto's hips belying how it really affected him. "Shit..."

It's a toss-up who moved for the next kiss, but it ultimately didn't matter in the face of the many that followed— first slow, and steady, drawn out as Gladio licked him open, Prompto responding in short, affected sounds. The open press of their mouths went harsh the instant Prompto experimentally gave a nudge of his hips down and forward, rubbing the front rise of their pants together. Prompto can't be too embarrassed of the sound he makes at the friction, which sent a jolt of arousal down to where his cock was stiffening against his boxers, because Gladio groaned at the same time, urging him on with a light tilt of his lower half upward.

Their kisses turn desperate the more surely Prompto started to rock his hips downward, now directly rutting against the unbelievably hot press of Gladio's very... _present_ arousal, vision swimming when they push against each other in a way that directly stimulates him with Gladio's cock. Prompto finally moans outright, breaking the kiss to slump against the other's chest with a shiver, the hands at the larger man's shoulders digging nails in lightly.

" _Gladio_..." He whined quietly, now unashamedly grinding their trapped erections together. Another time, he might feel bad for being _so_ affected for what was just touching through their clothing, but was currently mesmerized by the feel of Gladio's obviously thick dick through his pants, trying to move directly against the form of it to feel it out while simultaneously stoking the fire deep in his belly, so it was truly a lost cause. Gladio was just as affected, groaning low, hands trailing from Prompto's hips to unashamedly grab his ass, using his grip to grind them together.

"You're so hot," Gladio admits suddenly with a half-aware chuckle, words thick and cracking under his breath as Prompto's eyes shoot back up to his own, face flushed, lips parted. Gladio's lips are reddened and kiss-tender. It's a good look on him. "I'm not gonna last if you say my name like that again."

"Please don't." Prompto says first as a joke, kissing Gladio again, though his eyes carefully stray as he murmurs distractedly through the tail end of the kiss, one of his hands inching downward on the taller man's shoulder. "—Want to touch you first..."

Even mention of the idea seemed to excite Gladio, and Prompto is rewarded by the subtle twitch of the man's crotch up against him. There's a hint of exasperation in his voice when he spoke next, though the way he met his gaze makes Prompto surer than ever what he wanted. "...Never mind, everything you say is hot. I'm screwed."

While Gladio spoke, however, Prompto had been trailing tentative palms down the man's muscular chest, watching between them as his touch drifted lower, over his abs, defined even farther in the firelight. He could see the man draw in shallow, shaky breaths as Prompto reached the edge of his pants, sans belt, and swallowing, reached out to—

Gladio took Prompto's hand into his own gently.

"We can slow down if you're—"

"Relax, big guy," Prompto gave a breathy laugh, earning a look of confusion from the other. Without missing a beat, he bypassed Gladio's thoughtful restraint with his other hand, running gentle fingertips over the tent in the front of his pants, sparking an affected groan. The look he gave the other is decidedly smoldering, Prompto having at last found his sea-legs. "I've done this before."

Gladio looked simultaneously turned on and... displeased?

"Don't be jealous." Prompto was surprised by the thick tone of his own voice, feeling shivers of secondhand pleasure as he twisted his wrist to palm Gladio, greeted by an effected groan. He was _impressive_. On one hand, Prompto wasn't too surprised because everything about Gladio was big, but on the other, it put thoughts in his head that weren't easily quelled. "You blow the rest out of the water."

"I better." Gladio kissed him again, one Prompto eagerly returned, kneading him through his pants from base to tip, feeling unbearably hot all over. Every time Gladio moaned from his touches, the sensation went straight to Prompto's dick, making him rub gently against one of Gladio's thighs in response. Sensing his light frustration— though Prompto would have been fine if he didn't, this just seemed such a _Gladio_ thing to perceive so quickly— the other reached between him to cup Prompto through his pants, apparently finally having taken his permission to heart.

Prompto made a strangled sound into their kiss, immediately jerking into his hand against his will.

" _Nnn_ , that's—" He'd thought he'd at last gotten a hold of his tentativeness and taken some semblance of control, but once Gladio's hand is touching him fully through his pants, it's driven home all over again. Gladio was touching him— straining excitedly against his hand where Prompto touched him, urging him on, _moaning_. It was too much.

A desperate whine escapes Prompto's mouth as he surges into another kiss, trying to muffle the sweet, loud sounds that threaten to leave him when Gladio rubs against the line of his pants, flipping between cupping his full package through the material and stroking where Prompto is tightly pressed. He was starting to feel crazy, like an itch was growing deep inside him, tight and sinewy without release— Prompto's hands started to grab at the top of Gladio's pants, struggling for a second with the button before yanking down the zipper.

He half expected to be stopped again, but instead, Gladio appears to have felt the same intensity building that Prompto did, yanking his belt open without looking, making fast work of the rest until they have to break. Prompto's pants are pushed down low on one hip, Gladio's open to the cool night air, but it isn't enough. Biting his lip again, Prompto looked the taller man in the eye, taking in his lust-clouded expression as he pulled down questioningly at the corners of his pants.

In between brief, but hard, passionate kisses, they undressed each other down to their boxers, any pretense of embarrassment Prompto might have felt in this situation trumped by the need he felt for Gladio in this moment, above all fantasies he might have had. They're touching each other immediately, all gasps and hisses, Prompto moaning from the feel of the other's warm skin beneath the thin material alone. He quickly peeled it back before he could form hesitation he knew he'd regret, slipping his hand in to take hold of Gladio's stiff, flustered cock.

"Fuck, Prompto—" The other swore, and Prompto could feel his length twitch minutely in his grip, already moving gently over it fully. Gladio was fast to return the favor despite his moan at the touch, palming Prompto through the lighter material before yanking it down his legs, circling his large palm over the length of his dick tightly. Overwhelmed, Prompto dipped into Gladio's stance, panting against his shoulder, still touching the other all over with little rhyme or reason, shivering all over.

While Prompto was very much determined to push through his self-deprecating resistance, he wasn't perfect. This was something he'd never in his wildest dreams imagined he'd be deserving of, and remembering that made it hard to breathe, let alone hold it together and face this with any manner of dignity.

"Gladio—" Prompto whined as the other swept a lightly calloused palm over him, expertly twisting his grip at the base. He tried to keep touching Gladio, but it was becoming increasingly hard to focus now that nothing was between them. Well... there was still one step farther they could go. Prompto gasped with a thrust of his hips into the larger man's hand at the imagery _that_ gave.

"Tell me what you want, baby." Gladio soothed into Prompto's hair, though even the gesture served only to turn him on further, feverish mind filling with a dozen half-formed fantasies. There was so much he wanted to do— for Gladio, _with_ Gladio... and how much time to do it? That was the question ever-present in the back of his head. How long did they truly have? What could happen tomorrow, the day after, to him, Gladio, Ignis, and Noctis?

Prompto sat up a little, scooting forward until they were chest-to-chest, close enough for him to be able to press back against Gladio's cock lightly, feeling it rub up the line of his ass. He kept his face down, partially because he knew it must be bright red, but also because he was nervous.

"Could we..."

Gladio breathed in raggedly, his arousal jumping against where it touched Prompto's skin. "Prom..."

He could hear the trepidation in Gladio's tone on his behalf, and frustration bloomed in his chest. Prompto's voice cracked, struggling to get the words out, "Please, I need to know what you feel like."

"We don't have to— there's time, Prom, I'm not going anywhere." The other offered, a broad palm smoothing down his back soothingly.

Prompto's mouth felt dry. His hips stilled.

"You don't know that."

Even so, Prompto couldn't help but notice Gladio was still very insistently pressed against him. It wasn't that Gladio was turning him down, really, but looking out for him— he knew that, of course. But that wasn't completely why he'd asked. Prompto didn't need to be coddled... _that_ much, at least. While he may be terrified of the future, there were more immediate and human concerns he couldn't help but be passionate about, most of the centering around someone whose name started with a "G".

Slowly, Prompto met Gladio's fond, dark gaze, trying to impart every bit of willingness he could through his eyes. If that wasn't enough, the subtle, but growing nudge of himself back against Gladio's dick might help.

"That's not _just_ it. I really..." He looks away for a second with a shy smile, giving a long, hard roll of his hips down and back. " _Really_ want it, too."

Gladio's grip came to Prompto's hips, stopping him. "Gods, you are making it _really_ hard to be the good guy here."

"Does that mean you want to—" He starts, but Prompto suddenly finds himself pushed onto the stone beneath them, Gladio's large body pinning him warmly, lips at his throat.

"You have no idea," Gladio says for the second time, leaving hot, kisses down Prompto's throat once again, leaving him no recourse but to hold onto the man's larger body above him with a gasp as his head spins. "How many times I've thought about this."

Prompto breathes shallowly, unable to find the bravado he'd had a second ago. "Wow." Heat envelopes him, erection stiff and throbbing against his stomach between them. "That's um. Hot."

"Suddenly speechless?" Gladio chuckled, one hand sweeping down his chest to his belly, roaming his thighs, just barely staying clear of touching his arousal. Prompto grabs his hand, keening.

"No, just..." Gladio's gaze is on him and he can barely hold it together, hips twitching upward to glance his cock against the other's hip, eyes narrowed with utter need. "Hurry."

"Shit." Prompto feels himself being looked over, and imagines it's at least somewhat compelling. "Okay."

Gladio moves away for just a second to dart to the opposite side of the camp, leaving Prompto sprawled on the camp-stone. He doesn't bother looking around— simply lays there breathing sparsely, feeling hot and tingly all over and generally overwhelmed. It felt unreal, still— but Gladio's touch _was_ real. The misgivings he'd had beforehand might always be present, but right now, Prompto wasn't thinking about any of it. When the other returns with a small bottle and a foil packet in his hand, the sight of which sending a shiver down Prompto's spine, it doesn't feel nearly fast enough.

Kneeling down next to him, Gladio pats the blanket he'd spread out beside where they'd been sprawled, a smile gracing his handsome features. Prompto's barely shimmied over to it before he's been kissed again, and returns it with energized passion, digging fingers into the back of Gladio's thick hair to pull him in. When they're close enough, Prompto hooks a leg around his lower back, pulling his leaner body flush with Gladio's muscled one, gasping at the sensation of his flagging erection coming into contact with Gladio's own. They kiss each other hungrily, a high, needy moan passing Prompto's lips when one of the other's hands makes its way to his ass, kneading it, working his way inward until he's gently skirting his entrance. Prompto squirms at the sensation.

" _Gladio_..." He whines, hoping to push the taller man along by rubbing himself against the other's dick, feeling pre-come lightly slick his hip. Gladio's form hunches over him with a low groan, his hand moving away only to come back slick with lube, the cool sensation making him rut up against Gladio in a combination of ticklishness and need.

"Don't worry, I'll make it really good." Gladio murmurs into his ear, and Prompto gasps as a fingertip lightly presses against him, gently pushing _in_ after a moment of teasing. The feel of the other penetrating him even slightly is amazing, and he moans brokenly, less from direct pleasure as it was the overstimulation of the entire situation. Gladio's finger sunk into him then out again, pushing a little deeper each time. It only took a moment of Prompto's grinding against his hand— feeling pre-come bead at the head of his untouched dick— for Gladio to add another digit, stretching him open.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Gladio murmured low and reassuring, scissoring his fingers to open him up, the gentle thrust of them into him getting a little harder with every rock. Prompto can feel Gladio's body swaying gently with the movement as well, and a quick glance between them in the dark showed him that Gladio's cock was stiff and flushed, curling up slightly toward his stomach. Another purr, one in combination with a thrust of fingers that made Prompto cry out. "Can't wait to see you stretched around me."

"Not fair," Prompto gasped, head swimming from the sultry change in Gladio's demeanor once he was given permission. He arched his back into the thrust of Gladio's fingers _just_ right, hitting that place in him that made him weak-kneed. In an effort to even the odds, and show what he _really_ wanted, Prompto reached between them to grab Gladio's arousal, stroking it tightly and imagining what it would feel like. " _More_ -"

A third of Gladio's thick fingers strained him, a shudder of pain more fully recognized than the previous, but nothing that remotely changed Prompto's mind of what he wanted. The stuttered push of Gladio's fingers in him mimicked the press of the larger man's hips against him, and Prompto rocked back to meet them now, breath littered with moans and gasps, hand still absentmindedly rubbing the other's large arousal in his hand.

Prompto felt like he was going mad. Gladio was watching him with pupils blown wide, lips parted, seemingly just as taken as he squirmed beneath him. "Gladdy," Prompto implored, rubbing his thumb over the head of Gladio's cock.

Gladio nodded barely, digits retreating to open the condom he'd brought and press it onto himself with shaking fingers, lifting Prompto's rear up a little to line himself up, glancing back to his face to swallow seemingly nervously, though their actions still conveyed a sort of desperation. "If- If you change your mind, or it's too much-"

A small, fond smile crept onto Prompto's face despite everything, even as lust hung heavy over his every thought.

"I trust you." Prompto bit his lip, using where his arms were now wrapped around Gladio's neck to lightly rock against Gladio's cock, feeling the pressure it applied to him. A low moan punctuated his words, the smile still hinted on his lips, "Give it to me... Please."

In the next moment, a deep, loud moan escaped both of them as Gladio's cock started to sink into Prompto. Just feeling the head stretch him open made him see stars from sensation alone, fingers digging into Gladio's back as he scrambled for support. The experience of being slowly filled by the man's cock wasn't one he would soon forget— for now, he was having trouble thinking of anything but how big it was, feeling himself twitch tighter around the intruding object. Prompto panted raggedly, but behind the tears beading at the corner of his eyes, it felt _good_ , unclear if it was physically or psychologically. Still, so good.

"Relax, it's okay. I've got you." Gladio soothed, combing fingers through Prompto's hair, cradling the back of his head and stilling momentarily. Dimly, Prompto felt like he might be hurting Gladio with how tight he must be, but if he was, Gladio didn't say anything.

"It's okay, just... keep going." Prompto panted, wrapping his arms a little tighter around the larger man's shoulders to lean up and kiss him, willing his body to relax after a second of stillness, nudging his hips upward just barely. Gladio groaned into the kiss, muscles tense and shivering perceivably, making Prompto think that he must be holding back. It's an immensely hot idea, but also made him feel a little guilty.

As they kiss— sloppy and uncoordinated, full of heat and senselessness— Gladio pushes all the way inside of him, both of them moaning lowly at the closeness of their bodies and the nerves set alight by their joining. Prompto finds himself instantly wanting more, and urges Gladio on with a nod when their pleasure-heavy eyes meet in the darkness. Slowly and carefully, the man draws out only to gently rut his hips forward, pulling a sweet sound from Prompto's throat that he didn't think himself capable of. Another, and Gladio sighs too, the slow and shallow roll of their hips building a pleasant pressure in Prompto's belly, one of the other's hands bracing his lower back to bring them together gently.

"More— You... you don't have to hold back." He gasps, and then when Gladio's brows purse like he's going to say something in response, Prompto corrects breathily, dragging Gladio's lip through his teeth in a quick kiss, "I don't want you to hold back. Okay?"

"Okay. Yeah." Gladio responds in a dazed tone, the lustful but openly appreciative, affectionate look on his face when his eyes flick over Prompto's body flustering him temporarily more than the extremely hard erection currently buried inside of him. Gladio meets him for a kiss, this time, the press of his mouth so hungry and forceful it drags a whimper from Prompto's throat. Partway through the kiss, Gladio's hips drew back halfway, thrusting forward to the hilt before repeating the motion, working up a rolling rhythm. They both moan unashamedly, now, Prompto dragging himself up against Gladio's muscled body as he moves, slowly working his hips down into the more powerful rocks of the man's hips forward, one such particular movement slamming Gladio's dick deep, _deep_ inside of him, hitting a spot that makes Prompto seize up around the other's cock with a surprised, lewd cry. Gladio shudders against him, groaning at the sound.

"Good?" Gladio hauls Prompto close breathlessly, hair sticking to his face as their bodies grow damp with sweat once again, moaning as he drives his hips forward again, deep into him. Prompto's arms tightened at the elbow loosely around Gladio's neck, holding his upper half in place so they could thrust and grind against each other freely from the waist down.

"Y-yeah... really good..." Prompto moans, voice high and thin as he wraps his legs around Gladio's lower back, digging his heels in to bring them flush with a jerk. The other groans in response, and in his eagerness to please, words tumble out of Prompto's mouth without thinking, questioning, "Do you—"

Gladio's voice was hot in his ear, as affectionate as it was breathless, stuttering with the sharp smack of his hips upward. "Yeah. You feel so good, baby. So fucking good."

By this point, Prompto had clung so closely to the other that he was nearly sitting up in Gladio's lap as they moved. The other's words twist in his stomach like a too-taut wire, threatening to snap— he brought himself down onto the larger man's cock _just_ as Gladio thrusted upwards, hitting perfectly inside Prompto to where his vision swam, a loud cry escaping his lips. " _Gladio_ —"

Their communication was nearly exclusively through some sort of mutual feeling, now, sloppy, passionate kisses interspersed with the sticky, fast push of their bodies together— as such, Prompto didn't seem to need to say anything for Gladio to understand he'd struck gold, hitting the same spot again with a desperate moan of his own. His nails scrape down Gladio's back with a muffled cry, and he starts to babble incoherently in short, high moans when the other's cock struck him just right, " _There_ , please, I—"

Groaning just as forcefully from the smack of their bodies together, Gladio took hold of Prompto's chin to tilt it up toward him, eyes wide and lips parted as Prompto half-kissed him desperately to communicate everything his cries couldn't— only breaking away with a surprised, strangled outburst when Gladio's hand moves from his face to where his untended cock was stiff between them, stroking him broadly.

The sudden friction is too much, and the tight feeling in Prompto's belly skyrocketed at an unstoppable pace, in line with the now-uncoordinated, frantic press of his body down onto Gladio's own, shooting up to the very edge of the precipice. All it took was one sharp, hard drive of the other's hips up into him paired with a tight downward stroke of his hand for Prompto to finally lose it, crying out in a sound akin to a sob as he was struck by the ferocity of his peak, the body-shaking sensation leaving him mindlessly riding Gladio's dick in short, hard movements, mouth fallen open in vocalized gasps and moans. His dick twitched hard in the other's large palm, painting Gladio's hand and abs with come in short spurts, mixing with the feel of Gladio's cock driving into him at an even harder, wild speed, pounding into already-alight nerves. This, paired with the gruff and loud sound of the man's voice in his ear and the sharp, fast thrusts which signaled Gladio's undoing— forces Prompto to simply ride it out in a kind of mindless bliss, hips still twitching and squirming in place as the sensation later starts to dissipate.

...Prompto probably would have stayed there for an unintelligible period of time, slumped against Gladio's broad, sweat-damp chest, had the other not moved first.

He's barely even aware of Gladio gently pulling out to lay him back down on the blanket, flopping beside him on it as they both simply pant for several moments. Prompto drags a hand down his face and over his closed eyes, forgetting for just a second how fucked up everything had become and only being aware of the buzz in his body, and the warmth of Gladio beside him. It's good. He drops his hand without looking, and it lands on Gladio's wrist— just close enough for him to inch down to tentatively put his palm over the other's open hand, pleasantly surprised when fingers close wordlessly over his own.

Little by little, Prompto's gasps turn into giggles, then a breathless laugh.

"What is it?" Gladio hums lowly, and before he even opens his eyes, Prompto can hear the smile in his voice. He opens them, turning his face to look at him in the dim light of the campfire.

"Your hand is sooo sweaty."

Gladio simply raised a brow, "I just saw literal stars and you're talking about hand sweat?"

Prompto lets go of Gladio's hand and rolls over, semi-curling toward himself as he felt his face flush and a smile stretch across his lips, the reality of it all hitting him again— in a good way.

"Hey. You okay?" Gladio shifts behind him, a battle-rough hand smoothing up Prompto's bare side. The man's longer hair tickles his shoulder when he's leaned over.

"...Sooo okay." Prompto murmurs into his hands after a pause, "Like, beyond okay. Mega-okay. Like, _just had the best sex of my life with the hottest bachelor on Eos-okay_ –"

Gladio pulls his hands from his face with a low chuckle, leaning over to press a kiss to the side of his mouth. _That_ stops Prompto. There's a moment of silence between the two of them before Gladio kisses him again, slowly, and though lacking in the heat from before— replaced by something just as passionate.

Prompto's brows screw inward with emotion when the other pulls away, lips parting with a number of words he wishes he could find the will to express. Instead, he simply smiles shyly, if fondly. "I think I need another shower."

"In the morning. C'mon, we should sleep." Gladio rises, throwing another two logs on the fire with his bare hands, seemingly unafraid of the flames despite his still being totally naked. If one of their sleeping bags was here, and kinda.... dirty, did that mean—

"Together...?" Prompto belatedly processed the man's words, perking up visibly. He's met with a snort, Gladio already unzipping the tent to step in.

"Sure." Chucking his phone and clothing into the tent without looking, he instead directs an amused look in Prompto's direction, who can't help but squirm a little in response. It's only when it comes flying at his face that Prompto realizes Gladio had wet a handkerchief, tossing it right at his face. Good thing his reflexes are amazing— well, maybe not so amazing, with the wince in his lower back. "Now get a move on before Dino sees you— unless you're in the mood to be the star of a feature on Leide nudists?"

Prompto guffaws, crossing one arm over his chest and scrambling to his feet like he was ready to make a mad dash for cover. "Excuse me?! You're the exhibitionist here, not me!"

The other hums, eyes obviously roaming Prompto's exposed body. His cheeks burn as if they hadn't just been all over each other not ten minutes before.

"I dunno, you seemed pretty okay with it a couple minutes ago." Gladio teased with a final dirty look, ducking into the tent and leaving him to gasp indignantly. Prompto takes the moment of semi-privacy to clean himself up, though he's flustered the whole time, finally running a hand through his mussed hair with a deep breath once he's finished.

... Meaning, he has no excuses but to join Gladio now. Not that Prompto was afraid— how could he be—but it felt too good to be true, all of it. He rubs hand over his chest, the cool night air hitting his damp skin, a chill settling in. Yeah, this was real.

He rises shakily. A persistent but pleasant flutter seemed to have taken up residence in his chest sometime during the night, tight and aching, but in a good way— and though it was strange and new and scary, it felt so... validated. Maybe even deserved.

Prompto had a hope, a feeling that it was there to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the big pause, I started school two weeks ago while also working full-time during that period, so things have taken a bit of A Turn. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this monster!
> 
> There may be one final, shorter part for the Gladio section before the others, we'll see. School has started so my time has dwindled substantially, but I'm not abandoning this!


	8. Gladiolus, part 8.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After way too long of a wait, the final chapter of Gladio's part.

The next morning, Prompto awakened feeling warm and out of breath.

The first was easily explainable— he woke up mummified in his sleeping bag more times than not, with the rest of the time finding him rolled out of it completely. The second... his face wasn't against the side of the bag, so why—

Prompto's eyes snapped open, realizing with a start that the warmth wasn't his sleeping bag, it was _Gladio_ beside him, his face pressed to the larger man's bare chest. Memories of the night before flood his mind, and Prompto slowly slumped back down onto the man's broad torso from where he'd startled, not having gone far due to the warm, sleep-heavy press of Gladio's arm around his back. 

Breathing in tersely, as if the slightest further movement could wake Gladio, Prompto allowed a smile to pull across his lips, sorting through the thoughts in his mind and now enjoying the warmth of the man's bare body in contact with him, instead of feeling discomforted by it. The last night had been... _unreal_.

The sex had been amazing, too.

His face starts to heat as he recalls the intimacy between them, Gladio's gentleness, his restraint— for Prompto's benefit— and finally, the other's overwhelming passion when he'd finally been cut loose. It had left a dull ache in his lower back, bringing to mind what had worked the soreness into his muscles, something Prompto immediately had to divert his thoughts from. Shivers go from Prompto's toes to the tips of his fingers, remembering the intensity of their meeting, and he has to close his eyes with a flush of embarrassment when recalling even vaguely the... _frankness_ of his own urging, and how favorably Gladio had reacted to them.

...Almost as if he had enjoyed it just as sincerely as Prompto had.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he opens his eyes to look over Gladio's sleeping form: from the man's chiseled features, now softened in rest, the scar stretching down his cheek, to the tattoos that lead Prompto's eyes downward. Softly, and without thinking, Prompto raises his hands from where they'd been carefully tucked in front of him, lightly brushing a fingertip down Gladio's body, the light texture of his tattoos, the scars both new and old scattered across his skin. All the while, his eyes dart back and forth to the sleeping man's face, checking that he hadn't woken.

Prompto's thoughts trailed. The previous night _had_ been amazing, but laying in silence with his own thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder if things were the same for Gladio. In the moment, there was no doubt in his mind that Gladio had been sincere. But, had it been a one-time fling? Prompto couldn't fault him for that, of course— given the impermanence of their situation, and the possibility of harm to befall them, even... even _worse,_ it made sense for there to be a certain lack of discretion. He doesn't sincerely mind not being the first, but would he be the last? 

He can't think of much special about himself, at least in terms of the other people in the world. Even so, Prompto is aware of the tightness in his chest that draws his breath thin with affection, and the fondness that aches in his heart as his eyes and fingers trail up Gladio's relaxed, body, to where the other's amber eyes are gazing trustingly downward at him.

— Wait.

"Morning." Gladio murmurs thick enough to make Prompto's heart throb against his ribs, sleep still in his voice. Eyes widening, Prompto starts to draw his hand back when Gladio grabs it lightly with his opposite hand, pressing his palm fully to his chest. The larger man's skin is warm against his palm and over his hand, where Gladio's fingers lightly curled with the same gentleness as where his other still wrapped around Prompto's back. "Hey, don't stop on my account. I liked it."

Without moving his hand, neither away or toward, Prompto stutters a response to the easy portion, frazzled as he'd been caught red-handed in his thoughtful state. "M-Morning..."

Gladio's lips pull at the corners into a smirk, but he doesn't say anything, just squeezing his hand lightly. After a moment of watching him, however, his brows furrow. Prompto swallows, voice cracking.

"Should I... go?"

That pulls Gladio out of whatever he'd been thinking, however, sitting up a little and blinking down at Prompto with confusion in his eyes. "Huh?"

Prompto feels put on the spot now that he has to finish what he'd started. "Do you want me to—"

"You're thinking this was all a one-night stand." Gladio interrupts, the indecipherable look on the other man's face filling Prompto with worry and affirmation, any sleepiness in the shield's voice disappearing as he continued."Am I wrong?"

"If it was, that's..." He tries not to sound so glum, affecting a hint of his usual _Prompto_ persona. "That would be okay."

Gladio's eyes narrow down at him. "Would it?"

He looks away, unable to fake anything straight to Gladio's face after the night's events. "If you want. It's fine, really!"

Prompto feels Gladio's arm retreat from beneath him, and half expects the other to leave him to his fit of drama, but is instead surprised by the shift of movement next to him that suddenly finds him caged under Gladio's torso, the arm that supported him stopping Prompto from rolling out.

"What do _you_ want, Prompto?"

"Uh..." Prompto sputters, shoulders drawn up in surprise at the sudden closeness of the other above him. Just a minute ago, the man had been asleep, and now... Gladio's eyes are narrow, and his brows drawn together, but his expression isn't unkind— it's passionate.

"Seriously, dude. I'm not going to force you into anything, but if you're only in this for a quick fuck, I...need to know."

His eyes widen. " _Me_? No, I—"

Glancing away shyly, but with a flustered determination Prompto slowly raises his hands, fingertips hovering above the other's warm skin. "I want... this," His hands touch Gladio's shoulders gently, fingers splaying out as his palms gently slide down over the front of the man's broad chest. He thinks to correct himself, a flutter of nervousness hoping Gladio didn't think it was purely sexual." _A-All_ of this."

The shield appeared to relax somewhat above him, though he didn't free Prompto just yet. "So what's the problem?"

Excuses jump to his lips, but Gladio beats Prompto to it. "Lemme guess— you don't think you're good enough."

...Leave it to Gladio to hit it right on the head. Despite the other's urgings, it was just hard to accept instantly that someone as amazing, as strong, as ruggedly _handsome_ as Gladio would be taken with someone as... well, average-seeming as Prompto, even if he could convince himself sometimes that it wasn't the case. Prompto bites his lip and nods, feeling bare beneath Gladio's gaze, and not because of his lack of clothing.

"Tch." Gladio draws a little closer, and Prompto tries to lean back— but their tent is still set up on a rock, so there's only so far he can sink into the open sleeping bag. "I'm gonna keep having to say this, huh?"

He can tell what's coming before it happens, so he tries not to seem _too_ eager when Gladio leans in to kiss him— but makes sure to be aware enough to return it gently, lips still parted when the other breaks it to murmur lowly. "I wouldn't have done this if I didn't want you just as bad."

Prompto feels his cheeks warm embarrassingly fast, chest tightening— he doesn't know what to do other than run his hands farther up the larger man's shoulders, and behind his neck in agreement. "Gladio..." Prompto smiles timidly, gently pulling him toward him for another kiss, which is swiftly returned.

They kiss just long enough for Prompto's head to begin to swim again, Gladio's lips pressing to his slowly, but passionately, which he reciprocates, both of their eyes still narrowly open, as if mesmerized. Gladio pushes a harder kiss to Prompto's mouth suddenly, catching him off guard— he responds by gently biting the other's lip teasingly, pulling away with the smallest, triumphant smirk at the surprised, but heated look left on Gladio's face in response. Gladio licks his lips, eyeing Prompto briefly before planting a brief kiss on the side of his neck, speaking low to the corner of his ear.

"Maybe there's another way I can get it through that head of yours."

The kisses slowly move down the gunner's neck and to his chest, over his collarbone and lower, taking Gladio's body inch by inch down with it. Prompto's eyes nearly bug out of his head as cognizance of the situation strike him, and he's babbling before his brain can catch up.

"You're—" Prompto sucks in a sharp breath as Gladio closes his mouth around one of his nipples, teeth barely grazing it in a gentle movement that makes him jolt, almost hitting Gladio in the face with a knee as the sensation shoots south, straight to his dick. "You don't have to—"

The moment he says that, Gladio shoots a glare up toward him, one hand now running down his ribs, the other helping him kneel low. Prompto gets it at once, of course. He was denying things again— that the shield could really want this. He swallows, soothing fingers through Gladio's hair, trying not calm the blush slowly spreading obviously across his pale skin. 

"I know... you want to. But I'm just saying," Prompto's thumb sweeps lightly over the scar at the top of Gladio's forehead, wetting his lips. "It would be okay if you didn't."

Gladio hums in acknowledgement, eyes lingering on his own before he's kissing Prompto's skin again all over, the jut of his rib as he arched his back, Gladio's hand sweeping down his thigh, down to his somewhat ticklish belly with no affection lost to the light stretch marks there, to lave his tongue over the form of Prompto's hip, making him squirm. He couldn't stop watching Gladio, chin craned downward, as if hypnotized— but that meant he was even more aware of how much closer the man had gotten to what he assumed to be his objective, namely the obvious jut of Prompto's hardening cock against his boxers. 

His breath drew terse as Gladio dipped lower, tongue flicking out to tease the area of skin just adjoining to the band of his boxers, his free hand sweeping in along the V of Prompto's hips to more or less frame his package, purposely drawing attention to it. His breath stutters, drawing in a breath large enough to pull his stomach in from the touch— and becomes fast aware that Gladio's eyes are on him again. Prompto feels the urge to look away, with embarrassment, but the darkened, hot gaze he's treated with, as if he were Gladio's prey in battle, keeps him in place, his lips parting with shortened breath and his eyes narrowed.

Without breaking eye contact, Gladio moves his hand in, touching Prompto through the thin material. 

" _Gladdy_..." Prompto gasps, having to force his hips to stay down on the bed, evident in the small twitches up against Gladio's hand. The seriousness of the situation a second ago, his uncertainty, all of it leading up to this... it made everything feel more momentous, as if Gladio were knelt in devotion. _To him._ The idea makes his thoughts fuzzy, his chest still wound-tight— the shield finally looks away from him, and Prompto might have thought he was sparing him from scrutiny of the low sounds that escape his lips as Gladio palms him slowly, but those thoughts were dashed a second later when the man leaned down, nuzzling him through his boxers as his palm rolled against the base of his now-hard erection.

A surprised, strangled moan escapes Prompto's lips before there was the slightest chance of suppressing it. His arm snaps up from the side of the sleeping bag to cover his mouth with the back of his hand, literally biting back another, softer sound as Gladio continues without missing so much as a beat, lightly mouthing Prompto through his boxers as his hand slowly but firmly stroked the rest of him, clearly breathing a little harder now, given the visible rise and fall of his broad chest. It's such a lewd sight that Prompto has a hard time reconciling the present with reality.

... And that's _before_ Gladio started to tug at the waistband of Prompto's boxers, casting a dark look up at him, asking permission. Prompto's breath catches, a million responses running through his mind, each more ridiculous than the last.

_Holy shit holy shit holy shit Gladio is going to blow me what the hell who am I, where am I? Am I still asleep? Am I dead? Have I ascended to a higher plane of hot fantasy existence?_

Yeah, Gladio would have never let him live _that_ down. Prompto nods shakily, steeling himself.

As soon as he'd been given permission— though Prompto has a feeling the little smirk that stretched across Gladio's lips was directed toward his current appearance— the shield had continued, yanking the material off one hip than the other, leaning back on his kneels to finally pull them down his legs entirely. Prompto tries not to feel too self-conscious about the way his dick sprang up toward his stomach now that it was free from the restraint of material, knowing that 1) what was coming was far more person and 2) Gladio had kinda already seen it last night, right? —but he worries anyway.

Still, it didn't quell the dizzying heat that surged through him as Gladio sunk onto the floor in front and partially over him, one elbow propping himself up, the other smoothing up Prompto's bare thigh to take hold of his flustered length, stroking it lightly.

"That was fast," He observed thickly with amusement, palming Prompto's almost fully-hard cock, like he's testing the other's boundaries. "Maybe I don't have to prove myself after all?"

"Don't you dare," Prompto gasps, back arching somewhat as Gladio's hand moves over him, the man's palm warm and just slightly calloused from fighting. His sentence breaks off into another surprised, keen of a moan when Gladio presses his mouth to the head of Prompto's dick without notice. " _Gladio_."

Prompto uncovers his mouth, now, but only because he needs to grip both hands against the sleeping bag beneath him in order to ground himself, thoughts spinning in disbelief as Gladio's tongue sweeps across the crown, then down, running slick lips down the shaft to its base. The full and unashamed movements of Gladio's mouth pressing down against him— and finally, _onto_ him— overwhelm Prompto with both the physical effects, the building pleasure that shivers and jolts up him as the man's skilled mouth worked at him, and the mental; Gladio's clear relish of the act, shown through his attentiveness, the flush of his cheeks, the obvious tent in his pants visible just at the edge of Prompto's sight.

Gladio's fingers twist gently around the base of Prompto's now-slick cock as his lips work at the head, pulling a series of short, affected moans from his lips, and through the haze of heat-tight pleasure, he wants to do something for Gladio, too. With little options or even the depth of mind to come up with anything else, Prompto reaches out with a shaking hand to touch fingertips to Gladio's temple, stroking over the bone and into his hairline. At once, the shield's eyes dart— heavily-lidded, pupils blown wide— upward toward Prompto's own, lips breaking away from skin. Gladio's hand, however, continues slowly stroking over the length of his dick while he murmurs against damp skin.

"Something wrong?"

"No..." Prompto trails off, biting his lip and instead stroking Gladio's face again, tipping his fingers forward to gently drag nails into his hair, palm cradling the side of his face. He hopes the flustered smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth is enough to communicate what he feels. Gladio leans lightly against the touch, lips parting long before he speaks, still twisting his grip around Prompto softly.

"Good." He smirked, probably already knowing the answer but wanting Prompto to say it anyway."Leave your hand there. You can set the pace."

Without the chance for him to raise a question, Gladio is taking Prompto into his mouth tightly— and he finds that Gladio's hair makes a fitting, if highly unintentional handhold, his fingers curling into it as the man sweeps lips and tongue down first a fourth of his shaft, then more, and more as his mouth bobbed. Prompto tightens his fingers with a loud moan, one that turns to a high keen when Gladio groans around the width of his cock, seemingly from the reaction as much as it was the yank of his hair.

Sounds spill from Prompto's lips freely now as Gladio's mouth takes him in tightly, ranging from small gasps to longer whines, and he ends up holding onto the man's hair for dear life more than anything, that coil of pleasure deep in his belly winding tighter and tighter the longer Gladio blows him. It's nearly unbearable to keep going like this, but then the shield brings his free hand lower to cup Prompto's balls tightly, and he snaps, bucking up into Gladio's mouth with a high moan before he can stop himself.

There's a bolt of panic in Prompto's chest when he realizes what he'd done just as he did it, along with the unbelievably tight, hot sensation of Gladio around him, but the loud, muffled groan of appreciation that reverberates against his skin just a second after does good at setting his worry to rest. That, and stoking the flame in his belly ever-higher. Lowering his hips somewhat guiltily, Prompto realizes dimly that Gladio is watching him, cock still in his mouth, the other's eyes hazed over. As soon as he's settled back on the sleeping bag the man is dipping down again, still rolling Prompto's sack in his palm, rubbing his thumb up against the base of his cock— he sucks in a harsh breath, following Gladio's lead to slowly stutter his hips up into the shield's mouth, greeted by another muffled moan.

_Holy shit._

" _Gladio—"_ They continue like this— Prompto slowly rocking up into Gladio's mouth in short, reserved thrusts, as the other swallowed him up, moving in increasingly shorter, but tighter movements, aligning with the increasingly harried sound of Prompto's soft cries. He couldn't stand this much longer— Gladio showed no sign of stopping, only seeming more and more enthused the more Prompto lost it, and he knew if he didn't stop things, he'd fall over the precipice in a matter of moments. "I—"

Feeling the urge of his body to resist his next action, Prompto pulls gently upward on Gladio's hair, gasping as the man's lips pop off the head of his cock, eyes questioning once more. Prompto pants throughout his next words, hips still twitching in place as his cock stands hard and heavy with arousal.

"Wait—" He throws one of his hands down to cover Gladio's own before the man can touch him again, the height of his pleasure temporarily stifling his shyness in place of a desperation to be closer. "There— There's still time before they get back, can we—"

"Pretty." Gladio sits up on his knees, leaning over the flustered Prompto, who immediately wraps his arms around the man's broad shoulders. "'Wish you could see how you looked right now."

"Gladdy—" He raises in complaint, but it's clear the Gladio had gotten it— what Prompto wanted. It would have been amazing to finish the way things had been going, but he wanted to be closer— to know he was mutually making him feel just as good. Plus... they wouldn't have privacy, soon, for who knows how long. The realization he's unconsciously regarding the two of them as having a future relationship makes him even dizzier.

"For real." The shield interrupts, pressing a fast kiss to Prompto's lips, which he darts after for another. "Those sounds you were making got me so hard."

Releasing an affected sound under his breath, Prompto chases another kiss, one hand running up through Gladio's hair while the other drags down his chest sightlessly. The way the other spoke wasn't helping how he was throbbing with need from cutting things off, knowing it's obvious, given that Gladio kept doing it. "Seriously— you...you speak to Ignis with that mouth?"

Gladio grins, skin flushing a pleasant shade darker, much less obviously than Prompto's own. "I could speak to Prompto with a lot worse if he doesn't believe me..."

"Spare me." He snorts with a roll of his eyes, leaning up for another kiss as his hand trailed downward, at long last pressing over the front of Gladio's boxers— to test Gladio's statement, of course. Yeah, that's all. He's met at once by the _incredibly present_ feel of the man's erection through the material, hard and straining. Gladio groans low in response. He'd... gotten this excited sucking him off? " _Oh_."

Prompto keeps touching the other, and they kiss again— this time, it's without teasing, hungry and full of fervor. Gladio's previous restraint betrays itself with the eager rock of his hips forward into Prompto's hand, where he palms him through the material, moaning lightly when Gladio does out of secondhand affectation. He's out of breath fast, and takes that moment to drop his gaze between them, caging his fingers around the man's excitement through the material.

"I want you..." Prompto's voice breaks, glancing back up to Gladio's face with just a little nervousness. The man kisses him heavily again, prompting a tiny, affectionate moan to burst from his lips. Gladio's voice is thick, rough around the edges, like he was caught off guard.

"You've got me."

This time, things don't take quite as long. Prompto doesn't have to beg for it— not that he'd done so the night before, _exactly_ — but Gladio was quick to grab what he needed and prepare him, the shield's fingers dipping into _just_ the right places. Prompto is even clingier, feeling nowhere near as self-conscious as he had the night before when it came to dragging Gladio close, accepting the peppering of warm, damp kisses all over his neck and chest. He acts up a little himself, too, between quiet sighs and moans as Gladio adds a third finger, eyes entreatingly on the man's own as he reaches down to take hold of Gladio's now-bare dick, gently running his palm up and down its length, incensed by the low moan and sharp twist of fingers it brings.

"Shit..." Gladio looks between them, from where his fingers stretch Prompto open, to where the blonde is rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock. A particularly skilled twist of Gladio's fingers makes Prompto cry out, grip tightening around the other's shaft into several full, hard strokes. He lets go after, seizing both of the man's hips to pull him forward, wetting his lips with a questioning look.

"Is this how you want it?" The other asks, fingers retreating but a hand smoothing comfortingly up his torso.

"Did you... want something else?" He chews his lip, wanting it to be good for Gladio.

Gladio snorts, tilting his head with a roguish smirk. "I can think of a million ways to answer that, Prom, but I don't think we have the time for them all."

He flushes darker, the worry dissipating. "This is... okay. For now." Prompto feels a snarky grin pull at his lips, chest feeling lighter. "We can try something else _next_ time, yeah?"

"Next time, huh..." Hands sweep down Prompto's torso to steel at his hips, and he's eagerly leaning in, nodding away any hesitation.

"Yeah, I'm thinking like," Prompto sucks in a breath as Gladio's cock starts to sink into him, nails digging into the man's broad shoulders with a moan he'd hoped to suppress, the other just shy of _too_ big. "—Tonight... Y'know, n-nothing too hasty..."

"Wow, you're more insatiable than I thought." Gladio chuckles, but it sounds strained— he's watching the space between them lessen with a tense, hot look, clearly restraining himself.

"You thought about it?" Prompto asks frankly, accidentally letting his tone slip to too honest in his admission, eyes widening.

"Fuck...." Gladio bit back a pant as they're nearly flush, shooting Prompto a smile that flips his heart upside-down. "You bet I did."

"Gladio—" It's both in response to Gladio's words as well as the full heat of the man inside of him, pushed deep— Prompto swallows, brows turning upwards with both need and emotion, wrapping his arms around the shield's marked shoulders to lean up and kiss him, the movement uncoordinated but full of meaning.

The affectionate banter between them was set to the wayside, now— replaced by breathless, fast whispers, in between kisses and low moans. Prompto tried his best to be an active participant, but Gladio's presence was so overwhelming, as was the slow, but steady drive of his hips forward, so he settled for kissing mindlessly any inch of Gladio he could reach. Favorable hums and murmurs spurred Prompto on, and the shield dipped down with the next, harder thrust of his hips to press his lips to the side of Prompto's neck, sucking a red mark there without hesitation.

"They're— going to see that, if you keep going—" Prompto whines, nails digging into the man's shoulders unintentionally as Gladio's cock strikes him _just_ right, breaking his words into sharper moans.

"Good," Gladio surprised Prompto by almost growling, making that tight feeling in his stomach clench hotly at the show of possessiveness. Gladio had him by the thighs, folding them toward Prompto's body gently so he could push even farther into the smaller man, dragging a high, affected cry from his throat.

" _Shit— there—"_ Prompto gasped, head thrown back as his body tensed, so close— Gladio responded with another gruff, affected sound, upping the tempo to slam into him at the new angle, one hand thrusting down from Prompto's lean body to the floor of the tent to steady himself, clearly approaching his own peak. The gunner was incoherent, the fullness of Gladio's cock hitting inside of him mixed with the pressure in his chest overwhelming Prompto, pushing him to his brink: one hand reached blindly between them to seize his own cock, stroking rapidly with a desperate moan as he pressed his forehead to Gladio's, blinking away overwhelmed tears. 

"Prom—" Gladio moaned loudly in kind, eyes narrowed upon Prompto's face with feeling, kissing him sloppily. The combination of it all finally drives Prompto over the edge with a strangled, breathless whine that breaks the kiss, body tensing as he rode it out, several streaks of come painting his chest and stomach. The staccato of their bodies meeting lost any sense of rhythm at that, and in his pleasured-blindness, Prompto simply held on and urged Gladio with nonsensical " _please"_ s and " _Gladio"_ s, raw nerves incited as Gladio drove himself to his peak, his vision clearing just in time to catch the larger man's growl, the contortion of his features into ecstasy as his hips stuttered forward. Prompto shuddered, moaning softly from the sight of it with the feel of Gladio twitching inside of him, clinging on until the man was lowering him gently onto the sleeping bag, collapsing beside him.

Prompto was _spent._ He didn't even glance over to Gladio yet— just laying with arms splayed beside him, panting, listening to the similar harried quality of the shield's breath. He felt tingly all over, a smile slowly creeping across his mouth.

"You're amazing." Prompto finally laughs breathlessly, still too taken by the rush of it all to hold his words back.

"Amazing, hmm?" Gladio murmurs amused from beyond his peripheral. The gunner glances over, finding the man leaning over to dispose of the condom in their trash bag, grabbing a tissue and turning back to Prompto with a small grin pulling at his lips.

"Mm hmm." Prompto stretches out, feeling like a cat in the sun, his arms above his head and toes wiggling. He stifles an offended, ticklish giggle when Gladio's hand comes down to his stomach, using the tissue to wipe off the mess Prompto had forgot was even there. Oops. His cheeks warm at the attention, stretching his arms out in Gladio's direction without looking once the other had tossed the dirty tissue.

Gladio slips back onto the sleeping bag with him, showing no hesitance in embracing Prompto, larger hands coming to the gunner's lower back to pull them flush, grinning.

"Should I expect further praise in the future, blondie?"

Prompto scoffs, but he's smiling shyly. "Don't let it get to your head." He murmurs, resting his cheek on Gladio's chest, and arm wrapping around his ribcage. His heart is racing— but the lethargy from their bout is as fast at overtaking him, sleep hanging heavy on his eyes. He runs his fingers across the marks going down the man's shoulder, palm resting there as he drifts off.

"Gladdy..."

"Yeah?" Gladio hums from above Prompto, a hand running down his side.

"Don't tease me if I can't walk later, okay?"

"Pfff."

\----

Prompto slowly awakened sometime later, curled up on his side and warm all over under the sleeping bag. There's a murmuring in front of him, like someone is trying to wake him, and he reaches out to Gladio—

—But is instead greeted by a strong flick on the forehead, his eyes snapping open with a sound of rasping horror. Noctis is knelt in front of him in the tent, hand still raised from the offensive flick. Prompto scrambles, relieved to see he's not compromised. Well, he's naked, but he's covered by the sleeping bag.

"Hey, sleepyhead." Noctis purrs, looking like the cat who ate the canary. "Time to wake up."

"Hey...Noct," Prompto starts, simultaneously relieved to see the prince, but also a little terrified. He snatches his clothes from beside the sleeping bag, pulling on a shirt hurriedly. The rest of the tent had been cleared out, save for himself, the prince, and the items surrounding Prompto. Once he's fully clothed, he turns a genuine smile toward the other, grabbing his arm gently. "Nice to see you, man."

"We're going to check by the dock one more time, but we're packing everything 'cause we're gonna book it otherwise." The corners of Noctis' mouth are still twitching, and Prompto doesn't quite get why.

"'Kay... sounds good?" He glances around again, "Where're the others?"

"They're waiting outside. Iggy sent me in just in case you were still..." Noctis starts to grin smugly, forming air quotes with his fingers, " _'indecent_ '."

Prompto's mouth dropped open in horror. He was scrambling out of the tent as fast as he could, his camera bag and knapsack in tow. Yeah, his hair was a mess, but who cares? Well, he cared, but he could fix it on the way.

Outside, Ignis and Gladio were breaking down what looked like the last of the camp, turning to set to work on the tent as soon as they were out. Ignis set a piercing look on him, and Prompto was _sure_ that the advisor must know, even if only by pure mind-reading. He cleared his throat, pushing up his glasses with the slightest bristle.

"Good afternoon, Prompto. It's nice to see you've awakened... refreshed, I hope."

Prompto glances back at Noctis, who still had that dumb grin on his face. Gladio was carefully looking away, too, but there was a hint of a smile across his lips. "Uhh, yeah, raring to go!"

He starts to back toward the direction of the Regalia, a grin still in place, planning to make a swift escape until they were forced to all be together. Noctis didn't seem to be having it, though, following him with a lazy gait.

"Hey Prom, I forgot to say." Noctis smacked Prompto on the back with a friendly jeer, voice certainly loud enough for Ignis and Gladio to still hear. "Nice hickies. 'Real piece of work you've got there."

Prompto's blood ran cold, eyes all but bugging out of his head. And then, y'know, hot again, because otherwise how could he be blushing as hard as he was?

" _Dammit, Gladio_!" He cried, covering his neck and sprinting toward the Regalia with a chortling Noctis is tow. Ignis simply rolled up the rest of the tent, sending an appraising look toward the man, like he'd be shaking his finger if his hands weren't full.

Gladio simply shrugged, a grin playing at his lips. "I got nothin'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this! Again, this was the final chapter of Gladio's part— next up is Ignis/Prompto. I'm sorry the wait was so long to wrap up this bit, I had work/school and then got sick for a week and was in such lame shape I couldn't even write indulgent fanfiction.
> 
> I feel like that blowjob scene was too long, but I wasn't sure what to cut out, so sorry about that.
> 
> Someone understandably asked before— the parts won't be connected. The Ignis/Prompto and finally Noctis/Prompto will be their own stories. (Not that I'm not down for 3/Prompto, but eh that's how I planned it.)
> 
> See you when the Ignis bit is up, thanks again for being so accepting of my writing-rusty ass. :) Thanks again!


	9. Ignis, Part 1.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ignis/Prompto part begins! As a reminder, these stories are not related except for them all revolving around showing Prompto some much-deserved appreciation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only looked over this once before I posted it, sorry for any errors!

II. Ignis

 

Noctis' arms are swung back, bracing himself for the downward thrust of his greatsword, Gladio's own poised to slice at the softer flesh of the Catoblepas' inner-leg. The tenseness of the fight is present in both of the men's faces, the direness of the fight apparent, along with the frustration of having to take on more than one purely for its rare flank.

"Damn."

The scene changes: Prompto and Noctis are huddled in the back of the Regalia, both flashing grins and "peace" signs, opposite arms thrown over the other's shoulder. The coif of Ignis' upright fringe peeks in on the corner of the photo comically, along with a sidelong glance from Gladio, which is also out of focus.

"Hmmm."

And again, the image shifts, and this time, Ignis is leaning slightly over their portable grill, a tense quirk of his brows showing his concern over the state of their dinner. The air is clear, and the setting sun promotes a seriousness one could only take seriously when it came to Ignis' cooking. The food in question is next; kebabs that glisten tenderly in the disappearing light, the slightest bit of steam visible from their corners.

"Mm. Those kebabs were great."

Finally, Prompto poses for a selfie, but the lighting in the power plant is all off, the pressure from within its walls distorting the photo, casting an almost demonic look to the cocky smile on the gunner's face. It also seems to have caught him mid-blink, making for a very... _unflattering_ photo, to say the least.

"Dude, who did this to you?"

"Oh, shut it!" Prompto finally laughs, almost dropping the stack of photos while smacking Gladio's shoulder at the jeering comment, though he'd included that one purely for the reaction he knew it would evoke. "They can't all be perfect!" He pouts, slapping him gently again for good measure.

Gladio snorts, setting down the last of his dinner— a fine, salty-sweet seafood curry, using ingredients Noctis had proudly fished up himself, before sunset— and grins jeeringly. " _Perfect_ like that one you took of Noct eating dirt at the Galdin Quay yesterday?"

Noctis groans, head rolling back over the edge of his camping chair in remembrance.

"I quite liked that one, myself." Ignis supplied cooly, his face composed save for the smallest twitch at the corners of his lips. It was the final straw, drawing a disgruntled chortle from the Prince himself, which Prompto gladly laughed along with, doubly so when he caught the dirty, faux-betrayed look Noctis immediately threw him.

It was a good night. Full and pleasantly satisfied by the response to his photos in kind with the others' skills— Gladio's scavenging for their supplies, Noctis' part of dinner, and Ignis' skill in preparing it, Prompto set off sluggishly to bed shortly after Noctis did, tucking the extra photos he'd kept to himself into his camera bag before falling into a fast slumber. 

If things stayed like this, maybe they wouldn't have to be so worried anymore. Maybe... things would be alright. There's a nagging feeling in Prompto's belly that said he couldn't be anything but wrong, but he could only do his best to _try_.

 

* * *

"Morning." Prompto yawned in Noctis' general direction as they both gather their things, trying to smooth his hair back, the texture seeming a little crunchy. Blegh. He needed a shower. The despondent grunt from Noctis' direction conveyed a similar sentiment, though hopefully not toward Prompto himself— god knows they'd all gotten a little rank around each other now and again, given their forays through all sorts of locations, but it didn't mean he _liked_ it. 

He's sleepily gathered his things and brushed his teeth using some bottle water by the time Ignis and Gladio have wrangled their tent down, the former gathering up their camping chairs under an arm as the Shield tossed the tent bag over his shoulder, starting the trek back to the Regalia to resume their drive toward their next hunt— and ultimately, their destination. 

Prompto rubs his eyes one-handed as they move through some underbrush, collectively trying to be as quiet as possible, so as to not alert any daemons— or otherwise— nearby. They're split into two staggered groups as usual, so as to not be entirely pinned down, were someone to attack, a precaution suggested by Ignis after a pair of Mindflayers had caught them off guard when they'd been traveling at dusk some nights ago. It was an especially good idea now that they were in a thicket of brushes and tangled vines, frequently blocking their visibility, a wet, early-morning mist filling Prompto's lungs as they dredged on, but a bad one, because, well. His "buddy" is Ignis— who, bless him, seemed preoccupied in his own mental plans for the day, and wasn't exactly helping him wake up. 

He's _just_ distracted enough sleepily following the other to snag a foot on the underside of a surfaced root, tripping forward and flat onto his face with a surprised gasp.

"Aw, crap!" Prompto groans as he hurriedly swipes dirt off of his face, realizing with horror that he'd neglected to close his camera bag in his tiredness, resulting in his camera— _his camera–_ and a variety of photos to have spilled across the gnarled grass. He scrambles forward on his knees for the camera first, sighing in relief when he sees no cracks across his lens nor display, thoroughly distracted to where he doesn't notice at first that Ignis was crouched in front of him, gathering the strewn photos.

"It's okay, I can—" Prompto starts guiltily, cursing himself for his embarrassing clumsiness, but Ignis tuts him immediately.

"Not to worry..." The advisor picks up the last of the photos near himself, Prompto having rushed to grab the rest. Ignis makes a contemplative noise as he examines the photo at the top of his pile with interest. It's a scenic view of Lestallum at night, focused on several couples seated at Surgate's Beanmine. The trio and Prompto are nowhere to be seen.

"They seem undamaged." He returns them to Prompto before rising gracefully, extending a hand toward the gunner. "Are they recent? I don't recall seeing them last night, or the night before, come to think of it."

He hesitates for just a second, feeling thankful he'd gotten the rest of the photos now that Ignis had caught a look. Now that they're both standing, Prompto can be very preoccupied with a speck of dirt under his nail. "Oh... they're just, um, y'know. Messing around." The words keep coming, a little nervously, the remainder of the photos clutched face-down against his chest. "Easier to print 'em and free up space on the cards for later than hold on forever!"

Ignis raises a brow at the tumble of words, but to Prompto's temporary relief, says nothing, instead picking up the bundle of camping chairs he must have set down to assist. He chooses then to speak, catching him off guard. "They're quite lovely, if the few I saw are any indication of the rest."

Feeling his cheeks heat at the compliment, Prompto smiles sheepishly, readjusting the camera bag at his side. He knows for sure the rest of the photos hadn't included Noctis and the others, either. "Oh... uh, thanks? They're not that great, I already show you guys the best stuff."

Ignis purses his lips for a second, staring at Prompto, and is seemingly about to speak when the sound of a small explosion pierces the morning air. Gladio's pumped tone trails back to them soon after, signaling a fight. Instead of whatever he was going to say, Ignis instead sighs, pressing a finger to his glasses.

"Drat." He turns back onto the path, glancing over his shoulder at Prompto with a small twitch of lips. "Let's get on with it, then."

"Ditto!" Prompto stumbles down the trail after Ignis' fast gait, stuffing the retrieved photos into his camera bag with haste, fingers shaking a little as he zipped it closed hurriedly. "L-Leave me some, Noct!"

_Thank the Six he didn't see those,_ Prompto thought as adrenaline from the encounter and the coming fight took hold, thinking about the photos he'd managed to grab first— all photos of Ignis, from different occasions— how would he have have managed to explain _that_ one away?

Ignis' voice filters into his thoughts just as a Cactuar spine whizzes right past his cheek. Prompto shrieks with all the dignity of a man nearly made into a dartboard, and turns all of his attention toward the upcoming battle— the rest could wait until later... _much later._

* * *

  

It was only when the final Cactuar had fallen— still twitching from a burst of Thundaga— that Prompto allowed himself to take in a full breath. He usually really felt it for the little guys, sometimes, who knew how many hunters were on the lookout for them, they were so rare, but not today. Without realizing it, their sleepy band of friends had stumbled right into a Cactuar nest, leading to a battle so fierce, Prompto's pockets were completely empty of curatives. And Gladio's too— he'd asked after Noctis had thrown a Fire spell too close to him, rebounding off an uncaring Cactuar and straight over his head. Only Ignis' quick thinking had pushed them both out of the way of the worst of the damage in time. Now he was permanently, okay temporarily out of even a shred of sympathy.

Dusting off his pants and checking that his camera was unharmed, he glanced around his comrades. Noctis was already yawning with a bored, far-off look, Gladio was scrounging materials off of the dead beasts, and Ignis...

"Iggy!" Prompto jolted toward the taller man, mouth gaping at the plentitude of spines stuck in the side of Ignis' forearm. Never mind, Cactuars were dead to him forever. But, had that been from when— he raises his hands as if to touch the other, but the advisor soon waves him off with a shake of his head. "Dude! Are you okay!?"

"Fine." Ignis grimaces as he grabs the lot by the handful, pulling a whimper out of Prompto when he yanks the bundle out all at once with a light hiss, "A little worse for wear, that's all."

"We should—" He pats his pockets, searching for the curative he wishes were there, before shooting a panicked look off toward the others, who have since turned to witness the exchange. Both shake their head, Noctis seeming most guilty. He kinda gets it, considering the apologies he'd heard from the misplaced Fire earlier. He's brought back to Ignis by a light touch on his shoulder, turning back to see him smiling tightly, the expression only a bit strained.

"It's alright, Prompto. Nothing a bandage and a little rest won't absolve."

Prompto can feel himself visibly deflate, eyes flicking toward the shredded material of Ignis' sleeve and back, before sighing. They didn't really have a choice, huh. As usual.

"He's not gonna _die_ , Prom." Gladio groaned, already gathering up their tent and supplies again. "He just knows what it's like to be one of his pin cushions, that's all."

Noctis moaned in anguish, stumbling off in Gladio's direction. "He better not, I am _not_ eating your 'special' noodles again." Waving a hand over his shoulder, he meets Prompto's eye reassuringly. "Come on, I'll drive."

"Time to stop for a pizza?" Prompto supplies, grinning sheepishly back at Ignis as they approached the outcrop they'd hid the Regalia in the previous night.

Ignis' lips twitch into a minor frown at the idea. "Let's focus on finding somewhere to rest first, shall we?"

"Nice try." Noctis smirked as he slipped into the driver's seat, slapping Prompto's shoulder good-naturedly before turning his eyes to the road, clearly more than pleased to have wrenched the wheel from Ignis' skilled hands, even if just for a short time.

The wilderness of Cleigne spread out before them soon enough, Noctis more or less behaving at the wheel, with the occasional bout of backseat driving from Ignis. The breeze that came by as they whizzed along an overlook to the sea kept them cool, the hood of the Regalia down— saved on gas, Iggy had once said, to skimp on the air-conditioner— and not a cloud was in sight. It was gorgeous, but they'd also been in the wilderness for what felt like ever. Prompto had more or less zoned out after they'd passed the same-looking bush on the side of the road for the hundredth time. 

Yawning, he caught a glance of Ignis in the backseat through the sideview mirror— more precisely, the drawn expression the other was sporting, lips tight and eyelids twitching taut at the corners.

"What's up, Specs?" Ignis found his sight in the mirror, raising a brow. Belatedly, Prompto remembered the man's injury, and cringes shamefully. "Oh... yeah."

"Smooth, Prom." Gladio teases from the back seat, opposite Ignis.

"Shut up! I forgot!" He blusters, crossing his arms and pouting. Now he felt bad for forgetting... Ignis had been in pain the entire time, probably. Prompto's stomach turns, and he straightens up in his seat, no longer comfortable slumping to the side. Ignis probably couldn't have relaxed even if he'd wanted to.

Ignis clears his throat, attempting to downplay the subject matter, a weariness creeping into his tone that only made Prompto feel worse. "A little antsy, is all."

Gladio doesn't buy it, because of course he doesn't, and instead seems to settle for further teasing. "Don't trust His Highness' legendary driving?"

Ignis, however, does not seem to be in the mood for Gladio's perceptiveness, if the fast, cool way he responds is any indication.

"Gladio, I've just had a sudden epiphany. Perhaps you could gather us a suitable flank for dinner tonight as reparation. I'm in the mood for a tough steak, you see— something _muscular_ I can really stick a _dagger_ in."

Prompto is torn between being very impressed and wanting to throw himself out of the Regalia for his own safety. It appears Gladio has come to the same conclusion, given his grumbling, "Point taken."

The annoyance in Noctis' voice cuts through the exchange as if it were corporeal."You guys... at least argue about something funny, I'm sooo bored up here... and hungry. Why'd you have to mention pizza earlier?"

Prompto snorts, but immediately stifles it when Ignis' dryly snaps right back:

"Pardon, _who_ is bored?" The advisor sighs, and Prompto catches the other pinching the bridge of his nose in the mirror.

"Not me too, Iggy! I didn't mean it!

"Now you're gonna get it." He can hear the sneer on Gladio's lips without looking, and subtly tries to become smaller in his seat to avoid getting dragged into this.

"If I'm going down, you're going down with me. That's your job, right?"

Caught up in his effort effort to become the smallest Prompto known to man as Gladio and Noctis now begin to bicker, he almost doesn't notice the buzz of his phone in his pocket, fishing it out to discover— to his surprise— a text from Ignis himself.It's...something surprisingly friendly.

_Ignis_ **: >>** Prompto. May I look at your photos to pass the time? I would rather this afternoon not end in murder.

Glancing in the mirror only to find the man looking away, Prompto chews his lip, typing back quickly.

_Prompto_ **: >>** sure bud ^^ noct urself out

He didn't mind, but the idea was oddly flattering and panic-inducing at the same time. Was this because of earlier? Another glance, but now Ignis is looking down, presumably at his phone.

_Ignis_ **: >>** Thank you.

_Ignis_ **: >>** I will be very careful with your camera.

_Prompto_ **: >> **no worries, hope u feel better son

The gunner is about to put his phone down and go back to watching tumbleweeds when he notices his own typo, sucking in a horrified breath.

_Prompto **:**_ **> >** SOON* not son!!!!!! im sorry!!!!

Ignis doesn't seem to miss a beat, despite surely typing and holding his phone in the same hand, given his injury.

_Ignis_ **: >>** _I'll be alright, Prompto, but thank you._

There's the briefest pause, long enough for him to smile quietly at his phone, before: 

_Ignis_ **: >>** Or should I say, "Father"?

Prompto can't hold in the peal of laughter that spills from his lips the instant he sets eyes on the response, the sound undignified and bordering on hysteria. There's a tear springing to his eye, and he expects to see one final text from the advisor, but—

_Noctis:_ >> who r u texti ng

"Watch the road, dummy!" Prompto squawks, smacking Noctis with the back of his phone as he seizes the Prince's with his free hand. The Regalia only swerves a _little_ before Noctis gives up, eyes back on the road and a sulk on his face.

 

* * *

 

The oddly comforting buzz of Lestallum's generators is a welcome ambiance, the four of them (sans Ignis, for obvious reasons) stretching as they pull into the parking lot, complaints about the heat forgone in favor of the blessing of civilization. Prompto is the first out of the Regalia, throwing his arms over his head with a relieved somewhere between elation and a dying man's last breath.

"Finally...!"

Gladio is fast to set off toward the inner-city. "I'm gonna get us some grub. Catch up with us, alright, Iggy?"

"If I must." Ignis sighs, clearly in jest, though the effect is dampened by the sad sag of his injured arm at his side. Noctis eyes him narrowly, mouth working in a type of contemplation Prompto recognized as secret worry.

"Work out our room, Specs," The Prince yawns, heading off after Gladio. "I'll get the Remedy."

"Ah..." The slightest, sheepish smile pulls at the corner of Ignis' lips. Prompto looks away, feeling like he's witnessing something private. "I would appreciate that, Noct."

"Uhh, I'll..." He starts to back up the slight incline with a forced smile, Ignis' voice soon calling after.

"Why don't you accompany Gladio, Prompto? Perhaps then we'll eat something less than sodium in a bowl, that way."

"Will do!" Prompto salutes, jogging off before he could feel any more guilty.

Surprisingly, he has trouble finding Gladio. You'd think it would be easier to find the massive shield among the crowds of "built" (as Gladio might say) women, but given Prompto's current mood, he probably wasn't looking as hard as he could.

There wasn't anything strange about one of them being injured— it wasn't anywhere near the first time it had happened. Even if Ignis being lastingly injured was infrequent, it had still happened. They'd run out of potions before, too. It was more that...Ignis had done it in order to protect _him_. Out of the two of them, Ignis could contribute far more to their group, both in battle and beyond. They had the luck to be close to a city, but if they hadn't— really, Prompto wouldn't have minded if it had been him, instead.

He almost bumps straight into Noctis amid his thoughts, blinking rapidly when he comes face to face with the Prince at a market stand.

"'Suuup."

Noctis cocks a hand at his hip, raising a brow at him. "What, can't find Gladio?"

"Um..." Prompto's eyes flick to the bundle of potions in the other's opposite hand, teeth finding his lip. "I can take that to Ignis, if you want."

"Yeah? I don't mind."

"I feel kinda bad... It was my fault, just a little bit." The gunner scratches the back of his head, trying not to notice the knowing look on Noctis' face, prompting him to keep going. They'd been friends  _so_ long, and he really trusted Noctis, but he still felt a little bad having to show negativity.

"You're the picky one out of us, anyway... you should catch up with Gladdy before he gets something with..." Prompto's voice dropped to a stage whisper, behind his hand. " _Vegetables._ "

Noctis made a face at that, shoving the potions into Prompto's hands before patting his shoulder, a subtle kind of comfort. "Good point."

* * *

 

Naturally, Ignis had remembered to put all of their names on the room— so he hadn't had to try to convince the front desk agent of his involvement, though he had a feeling the potions in his hand were convincing, considering Ignis was (hopefully) the only obviously-injured-man booking a room in Lestallum. It wasn't unlike Ignis to do so, but Prompto was still impressed, as always— if he were hurt, hell if he were _sleepy_ he wouldn't have remembered to do so. Actually, there was a reason he didn't book the hotels anymore, and it's because he'd done just that at Coernix Station, locking everyone out of the caravan before taking a shower... and then it had started to rain. Shaking off the thought, he lets himself in with the extra key he'd charmed out of the clerk, thankful the man seemed weak to his naturally weepy-looking eyes, the redness probably even worse now that he hadn't a bathroom to fix them up in. Prompto knocks gently on the inside of the door as he closes it, worried about surprising Ignis, and knowing he'd only have awkward greetings to give otherwise.

"Potion delivery!" 

_Definitely not as awkward, right? Right?_

"Prompto?" Prompto rounds the small hall to see Ignis sat on the edge of one of the two beds, looking somewhat confused. The advisor had stripped the battered jacket and his dress shirt, leaving him in only a light undershirt and trousers... and bandages.

"That's me!" He gulps, gesturing with the potions in his hand. Ignis doesn't question him further, to Prompto's relief, smiling lightly when he sees the curatives. He...looks tired, too.

"Thank you." Ignis begins to unwrap his arm methodically, not too hastily, but also not taking his time, just like everything else Ignis did. He scoots over to the bed, kneeling down in front of Ignis to first hand him the uncorked Remedy, which the man downs immediately with a sour look, before extending his hand for the remedy— the semi-paralysis he had been suffering was gone, but the wounds still festered. Prompto was already one step ahead of him, though, grabbing Ignis' wrist to lightly pour the thick liquid of the Hi-Potion over the puncture marks before he lost his nerve. 

Prompto feels Ignis start from the cool liquid touching his skin, but keeps going, brow wrinkling as he keeps his head down, concentrating on smoothing the viscous substance over the wounds. They immediately begin to close beneath the shimmering liquid, and once they're reduced to thin marks, Prompto lightly rubs his slick fingertips over them, massaging the curative deeper into the tissue. It's only when he's sufficiently satisfied that he chances a look up, pulling his hands back to wipe them on his pants.

Ignis is staring down at him with an off-guard visage, surprise plainly visible across his face. They're close enough that he can see the freckles behind the man's glasses and the slight wrinkle at the corner of his eyes— probably from looking at documents so closely for so long. Prompto coughs, trying not to squirm under the man's stare, instead standing and stepping away from the bed to a safe distance.

"Sorry... uh, I read somewhere that it works faster, that way." The gunner rocks on his heels, glancing back to Ignis' exposed arm. "All good now?"

The other blinks, standing to fold both his shirt as well as jacket over his arm primly. "Yes, I should be sorted with a little rest, now." Ignis smiles honestly, a little of his gentlemanly cool seemingly restored without the brunt of the wound to mask it. "That was kind of you, Prompto."

"It's all cool... I kind of owed you, anyway." He clears his throat again, "Hey, dibs on the first shower?"

Ignis makes a small, offended sound at the back of his throat. "You would take that from an injured man?"

Prompto's eyes widen, "Sorry, I—"

"—I'm only joking, Prompto." Ignis soothes immediately, a real smile spreading across his mouth, now. He picks up a sewing kit the gunner hadn't noticed on the bed before, clearly prepared to be occupied for quite some time."Please, help yourself."

"'Kaaay." Laughing sheepishly, Prompto turns toward the restroom, scratching fingertips through his stiff hair in light admonishment. 

_Buck up, Prompto. You can't be bothered by everything, jeez._

"—And, Prompto." Ignis' voice cuts over his own internal one, though not at all unkindly."Don't worry yourself, it's quite alright. These things happen."

Nodding back at Ignis, he enters the bathroom, slumping against the door once it's closed, the smile slipping off of his face. 

This wasn't going to get any easier, huh? Any one of them could be hurt at any time— that, he understood. It was his duty as a Crownsguard— moreover his personal motivation to protect Noctis, even to his own harm, but he didn't want the others to get hurt on his behalf. Not Gladio, and especially not _Ignis._

The surprised look on Ignis' face from moments before comes back to mind, the image as perfectly preserved in his head as it would have been in a photograph— he kinda wishes he could have taken one, given how infrequently he saw the guy off guard.

Sighing, Prompto rubbed tight circles over his chest, trying to ease away the ebb of anxiety still dwelling there, along with anything else. Yeah, a shower and some sleep would do _him_ some good, too. 

After he's clean and in better spirits, the gunner rejoins the others, enjoying having some food in his belly (though not as good as Ignis' cooking, the Lestallum food stands were pretty amazing) and a roof over his head. The mood between them all has turned for the better, the four of them playing cards in the tiny excuse of a kitchen over leftovers until Prompto is too tired, declaring defeat dramatically before making his escape to the bedroom. Following his semi-nightly routine—that is, when they had access to amenities— he crawls into one of the double beds in a lighter undershirt and shorts, leaning over to fish his camera out of its bag to plug it in to charge overnight.

After he unzips the bag to retrieve his camera, however, Prompto's hand freezes. The small photo envelope of his _extra_ photos is bundled carefully on top of the camera, neat and prim compared to how he'd shoved it into the bag this morning, the photos in disarray. He'd completely forgotten about acknowledging their existence to the other after Ignis was injured, and yet— he'd handed them right over, thinking the man would just be looking through his camera. 

_Shit, shit, shit—_

Prompto glanced hurriedly back toward the kitchen area to make sure he was still alone, heart caught in his throat as he snatched up the envelope, quick fingers opening it and pulling the photos out to scan through them hurriedly. He's relieved that there's less awkward photos than he'd previously thought, mostly comprised of urban photography with an occasional shot or two of the landscapes they came across. Come to think of it, a couple of those are missing, and he realizes with a pang in his chest that they were probably still hidden in the grass where they'd fallen at last camp. What a bummer, but not really what he was here for. Prompto's chest clenches when he comes across a photo of Ignis, a close-up of his face as the man leaned over something steaming, eyes fire-lit bright and brow furrowed just a little in concentration. It's much like the one he'd shown the others the night before, but close enough to see his freckles— something Prompto couldn't help but find oddly humanizing. There are a few others like it, but nothing quite as bad as he remembered— nothing too _weird,_ outside of the fact there were only separate photos of _Ignis_ in the folder. Shit, that _was_ weird. Prompto reaches the end of the stack feeling a little queasy, already trying to think of an explanation to offer to Ignis.

... Then he looks at the last photo again. And the one before it. Then he roots around his camera bag, fingers grasping at its padded walls uselessly. Had he lost it— Prompto flips through the photos again, alarm growing in his gut as he once again reaches the final photo without finding what he was looking for. He'd passed a photo of Ignis watching Noctis fish, a subtle smile on his lips, one of him about to tip back a can of Ebony, his opposite hand stretched out to brace gracefully on the wheel of the Regalia, one of him making a sour expression at Gladio, the enjoyment in his eyes betraying him, but...

One of his favourite photos of Ignis— of both of them _together_ , one he _knew_  had been there when they'd left the thicket, was... _missing?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting! I wanted to get this out as soon as I could during Spring Break. I feel like this is definitely a slow and arduous start, for which I apologize, though I do think Ignis' part of this extravaganza is going to be a slower burn in general, because... it's... it's Ignis. Let's be real. The guy takes time.
> 
> Oh, and I'm trying to write Ignis' part as fuller/less cliff-hanger-y chapters than Gladio's part was, sorry about that!

**Author's Note:**

> (please, no late-game spoilers!)


End file.
